In a Family Way
by ThePotionMaster'sMistress
Summary: Female Severus is impregnated with Sirius's child after a particularly confusing/tumultuous evening of fighting. See how the two work together to navigate the trials of pregnancy.
1. Chapter 1

The comfort of sleep having once more proven itself to be elusive to Sirius, the frustrated animagi trudged his way into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place- in pursuit of a large glass of Firewhiskey and, perhaps, a midnight snack. Rubbing blearily at his still light-sensitive eyes, he couldn't help but wonder, also, if there might just be any Dreamless Sleep potion left with which he might spike the nightcap. Remus's strong cautions aside, it _had_ been a full three days since Sirius had experienced anything more than a few hours of fitful sleep. And, quite frankly, after that night's horrendous Order Meeting, he _needed_ the total release the ill-advised cocktail would deliver.

Sirius was only a few steps away from the kitchen, and his much-desired nightcap, when the presence of light peeking out from beneath the door halted his strides. There was, Sirius frowned, absolutely no reason for the kitchen to be illuminated. Not only had he _just_ been in bed, Sirius's eyes were, of yet, still readjusting themselves to light. A consequence which, though thankfully reversible, kept Sirius from utilizing the many fireplaces and chandeliers of Grimmauld Place. And Kreacher, _Merlin blast him_ , would no sooner leave his self-imposed exiled within the confines of the attic than Sirius would willingly go back to Azkaban.

 _Remus_ , he thought with an irritated scowl. The overly-concerned werewolf had come, Sirius was certain, to confiscate his already diminishing supply of Dreamless Sleep potion. Perhaps, even worse, his firewhiskey as well. Resolving not to allow such an injustice to occur, Sirius leaped into the kitchen with a dramatic growl, prepared to protect what little supply of alcohol and medicine he had left.

To his immense shock, it was not Remus, having come to plunder in the name of friendly protection. It was Snape, her pleasantly plump posterior sticking out from beneath the gigantic table positioned in the center of the room. It was, Sirius scowled, an arse he would recognize anywhere.

"What are you doing here?!" Sirius barked, wand at the ready.

Having already bumped her head quite sharply against the table at his initial growl, Snape was slow to rise from her knees, her reluctance no doubt stemming from the fact that she had dropped her wand at his shouting. Having been uncharacteristically too slow to retrieve the polished stick, it had rolled impossibly quickly to the other side of the room.

"Nothing!" Snape snapped, quickly positioning herself behind a chair.

"Nothing?!" Sirius snorted, looking derisively at the dust on her fingers.

"That's right." The Potion Mistress declared, gaining more confidence as she wrapped her fingers around a heavy, silver candelabra. " _Nothing_."

"You were trying to steal something!" Sirius accused, eyeing the candelabra warily.

"I was doing no such thing." The Slytherin hissed, taking several steps backward.

"You lie!" He snarled.

Before Snape could utter another denial, Sirius advanced upon her, quickly and easily yanking away the candelabra in her hands. Tossing the mass of silver several feet away, he then seized the scrawny woman's wrists, unwilling to allow the surly Slytherin any opportunity to attack him.

"You brute!" Snape snarled, frantically trying to free herself. "Unhand me!"

"Not until you tell me what you were doing in my house!" Sirius resolved, the vehemence in his voice as strong as his grip.

"I was _looking_ for something, you beast!"

"So you _were_ trying to steal from me!" Sirius surmised, releasing the struggling woman in his enthusiasm.

Unbalanced, and perhaps unnerved to have had her plans go so awry, the Death Eater stumbled and fell ungracefully into a kitchen chair. Grimacing as the hard wood made contact with her fatless body, Snape quickly snaked an arm backward towards the table in desperate pursuit of another makeshift weapon.

"What was it!?" Sirius interrogated, clapping his hands down sharply on both sides of the chair. "What were you trying to steal!?"

"My hairclip!" Snape cried, a defiant expression on her face though she trembled considerably. "My silver hairclip."

Alarmed at the suggestion of what was possibly fear creeping into her dark eyes, Sirius immediately stood upright and took a few steps backwards. For as much as he loathed the woman, utterly and completely, Sirius no real desire to inspire that much fear in any woman.

"Hairclip?" Sirius repeated, wondering if perhaps he might have misheard her.

"Yes." Snape confirmed, still eyeing him warily. " _My_ hairclip."

With an annoyed sigh, Sirius shook his head and marched over to the silverware drawer, yanking it open with more than force necessary. Plucking two of his fingers into the dusty confines, Sirius gingerly removed an impossibly sharp hairpin.

"Is this what you're looking for?" He growled, brandishing the hairpiece in her face.

Encrusted with what could only be several authentic emeralds, configured to take on the shape of a ruby-eyed serpent, the seemingly harmless object had pierced through Sirius's big toe during his post Order Meeting cleanup.

"Yes!" With that enthusiastic validation, the former Hogwart's Professor leapt to her feet and grabbed for the jewelry.

Before Snape could retrieve her much-desired hairclip, Sirius raised his arm, effectively putting the trinket several inches out of her reach. Both irritated and alarmed at the sudden change of events, the pale-skinned potion enthusiast quickly rose up on the tips of her toes, stretching her arm as far as she could in the vain attempt to recapture the hairpin.

"Take it easy." Sirius frowned, backing away from the distraught Slytherin.

"If you would just return my property to me, I _would_." Snape retorted, her voice a mixture of anxiety and irritation.

"I never thought _you'd_ be the type of woman to get worked up over a bit of jewelry." Sirius teased, waggling the hair accessory playfully.

At Sirius's lighthearted ribbing, Snape's face contorted into a murderous expression, her obsidian eyes darkening so considerably the pupils were nearly indiscernible. It was all too late, that he realized his mistake.

"That hairclip belonged to my _mother_." The Slytherin educated with a hiss, her eyes never once leaving the object in question.

Feeling like a prat at the confession, Sirius quickly lowered his arm, prepared to surrender the object back to its rightful owner. Snape, however, proved too quick for his Azkaban-damped reflexes. As swiftly as a falcon descending on its prey, her potion-stained fingers removed the trinket from his grip in the matter of seconds.

"I didn't know…" Sirius apologized, the words sounding weak to his own ears.

"What a surprise." Snape sniffed, hastily depositing the expensive bit of jewelry into her moleskin handbag.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sirius demanded, helplessly giving into the Slytherin's antagonization.

"What it means," The former professor drawled, "Is that you've _never_ taken much consideration for other people's feelings."

Sirius could not help but snort at such a hypocritical statement, his amusement only multiplied by the fact that his transgressions were _far_ less severe than the crimes committed by his accuser.

"Well," He scoffed, "If that isn't the Pot calling the Kettle black."

"I am aware of _my_ faults." Snape sneered, sticking her nose into the air. "You, on the other hand, are _not_."

"Do you honestly expect me to waste my manners on the likes of _you_?" Sirius condescended, amused at absurdity of such a thought.

Offering only a glower in way of reply, the home invader backed her way slowly towards the foot of the kitchen table, no doubt in pursuit of her wand.

"I have neither the patience, nor the time, to bicker with you." She remarked, using her foot to feel for the wand. "I have _enough_ on my plate already."

"No more than anyone else." Sirius dismissed, opening a bottle of firewhiskey with more force than necessary. "You aren't even teaching anymore."

Still using her foot to root around for her wand, no doubt too cautious to turn her back on him, Severus gave a frustratingly smug smile at his remark.

"No, thank Merlin for that." Snape agreed, genuine relief dancing across her face.

"Then what do you have to complain about?" Sirius goaded, swallowing down three large swigs of firewhiskey.

"I _wasn't_." Snape denied, a decidedly violent edge creeping into her voice. "But I'll have you know that my schedule is still rather full with all the spying and brewing alone."

"That's a bed of your _own_ making." Sirius condemned, collapsing into the furthest chair away from her.

"Perhaps." Snape conceded, still wandless. "But any woman could tell you that a bed ought to be remade every now and then."

"Is that what you think you're doing?" Black questioned, shaking his head at her absurdity.

"Why _else_ would I be putting myself in mortal peril?!" Snape snapped, an angry flush decorating her otherwise colorless cheeks.

"Mortal peril?!" Sirius repeated, jumping to his feet.

"Yes, Black!" Snape's confirmation was more of a screech than a statement, and Sirius flinched at the volume. "Or do you _delude_ yourself into thinking that the life of a spy is an easy one?"

"I should hope it's a _miserable_ one, your reprobate bat!" With that powerful epitaph, Sirius stomped toward her, his sleep-deprived brain greatly effecting the way in which he controlled his temper. "It would be no less than you deserve!"

"How _dare_ you?" Snape cried.

"If Lily were still alive today, she'd tell you the same _damn_ thing." Black assured, pushing his face uncomfortably close to hers.

At such an admittedly cruel declaration, Snape closed the distance between them in a few quick steps, her skinny hand stretching backward and then forward at remarkable speed. Before Sirius had even had time to defend himself, the blow had landed. His right cheek stinging painfully, he stumbled backward a step, an unfamiliar surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Locked away in Azkaban all those endless years, it had been the first time in a long time that Sirius had felt anything other than muddled contentment or rage. _This_ , he thought with a shudder, was _excitement._

Without giving though to his next action, Sirius seized her face, pushing his terribly chapped lips against the impossible softness of her own. But instead of meeting the gesture with excitement, Snape flinched, chomping down hard on his bottom lip before pulling away.

For a moment, Sirius thought she might strike him again.

"Snape," He began, prepared to put his arms up in surrender- "

Sirius did not have the opportunity to complete his sentence, for Snape was upon him in seconds, her petite little body pushed up against him as she kissed him back with fervor. Deprived of the comforts of sex for so long, Sirius responded in kind, allowing himself to wrap his arms about her tiny waist and pull her ever closer. She stretched her arms upward in return, digging the lengthy digits of her hands into his overgrown hair.

Sirius could not even begin to contemplate just how good it felt to have her pressed against him, her lithe, little body stretched out considerably just so that she might reach his lips. Feeling so euphoric, he could not even bring himself to mind that it was _Snape_ allowing him this pleasure, _Snape_ giving in his frantic need for intimacy.

Without hesitation, Sirius knew that he had to have her.

Suddenly sure of himself, he took a slow step backwards- the pale-skinned witch readily following his lead. Encouraged by her willingness, he quickened his pace, fearing that he might not make it to his bedroom if they dallied in the kitchen much longer.

In a tangled mass, they progressed through Grimmauld Place, half-stumbling over one another in their frantic pursuit of the master bedroom. It wasn't until they reached the grand staircase that they encountered any problems.

Easily dwarfed by his taller stature, it proved an immense feat to guide the potion-enthusiast backwards up the staircase. It was only with the significant contortion on both their parts that they were even able to make it halfway up the incline, Snape slipping up several times and nearly getting crushed as a result.

In an impatient huff, Sirius scooped up the underweight woman in one smooth swoop, eliciting a cry of surprise from his newly designated cargo. Clearly alarmed at the sudden shift in transportation, the Death Eater immediately wrapped her slender legs about his waist for both security and support.

Emboldened by the invigorating sensation of having the warmness between Snape's legs so near to his manhood, Sirius half-ran up the polished steps, planting several hungry kisses along the softness of Snape's neck. Shuddering at the action, the inky-haired woman craned her neck, graciously allowing him better access to that smooth stretch of perfumed flesh. With mild curiosity, Sirius wondered what such an intoxicating scent might be named.

But the idle thought did not last long, for moments late the two of them fell through his half-opened bedroom door in a snogging contortion of tangled limbs and conjoined lips. Moaning with relief at having finally arrived at the Promised Land, Sirius tossed his impromptu lover unto the oversized bed with tremendous ease, the scrawny woman giving out a soft cry as she sank into the overwhelmingly soft mattress.

Like a predator in frenzied pursuit of its prey, Sirius leaped over the ornate floorboard in one smooth swoop, landing on his knees just inches away from her. Flinching at the sudden approach, but holding her ground, Snape closed her eyes and allowed him to push her down unto the mattress with his body.

Raining moist kisses upon her collarbone, Sirius trembled when he felt her fingers delve into his hair once more. Emboldened by her participation, he dared to try and snake a hand up her skin-tight blouse. Unfortunately, his efforts were soon proven fruitless, for the garments lack of elasticity would only allow his eager fingers to push through to her belly button.

Appearing to sense his frustrations, and perhaps experiencing her own, Snape wriggled out from beneath him and leaned up against the myriad of pillows pressed against the headboard- her trembling, potion-stained fingers struggling to undo the endless buttons decorating her long-sleeved blouse. Like an impatient child, he watched her struggle, valiantly fighting against his strong urge to simply yank the black fabric from her shoulders.

Unfortunately for the blouse in question, Sirius's patience evaporated after a long five minutes had elapsed without meaningful result. Swatting Snape's fumbling fingers away, Sirius allowed his steadier digits to make quick work of the silver buttons.

Without hesitation, Sirius tugged open the lacey blouse, expecting the rewarding sight of a pair of bosoms. But instead of the treat he had expected, his eyes fell upon the horrific landscape of a body severely malnourished and battered. Very few inches of the colorless skin was, in fact, free from scarring. And if such an unexpected visage were not off-putting enough, his inadvertent glimpse of her Dark Mark certainly was.

Taking notice of his horrified expression, Snape blushed profusely, quickly turning her head to the side in order to avoid his gaze. Not wanting to jeopardize the already tenuous affair, his desire for sex more powerful than his revulsion of the tattoo, Sirius immediately kissed her neck- hoping to put the Slytherin at ease once more.

Slowly, but surely, the Occlumens unstiffened- her fatless body arching slightly when Sirius breathed into her ear.

"Do you like that?" He inquired, making certain that the words would tickle her ear.

Instead of a verbal reply, Snape gave a stifled cry of pleasure, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair. Rather than wince and run the risk of embarrassing her, Sirius thrust his tongue out from between his chapped lips and dragged it across the outline of her ear.

 _"Merlin!"_

Delivered in an arousing whisper, the pleased exclamation gave Sirius all the confirmation he needed that Snape was just as eager as he was for this unexpected liaison. Thus assured, he all but _ripped_ the black bra from her body. In a frenzied haste, he quickly tossed the design-free garment unto the floor, eager to take in the sight of the first set of breasts he'd seen in more than a decade.

Though her lack of fat had rendered her nearly breastless, Sirius looked in awe at the milky mounds, their perky pink peaks driving him half-mad. Without pause, he fondled them greedily, nearly drooling as he recalled just how pleasurable such an action could be.

Snape allowed him that simple pleasure without complaint, the corners of her plump lips turning up almost imperceptibly. But as much as had missed the velvety softness only breasts could provide, Sirius did not linger too long on those perfect twin peaks.

For he was a man more appreciative of a lady's bum. A preference both developed and cultivated during his teenage years at Hogwarts. Fortunately for him, Snape just so happened to possess one of the plumpest posteriors he had ever had the privilege of gawking at.

Wanting to unveil said derriere, Sirius decided that the time had come to remove her black slacks. Sped along considerably, by the fact that his manhood was pressing quite uncomfortably against his _own_ trousers, he would have ripped the silver oval from the cotton fabric in his haste had he not been halted by Snape's flinching.

"Do you want to?" Sirius pressed, immediately withdrawing his hands and sitting upright.

Hesitation flickered across her pale face, but she nodded firmly.

"I need you to say yes." Sirius informed, unwilling to coerce a woman by any means.

 _"Yes."_

Having received the much-needed consent, Sirius yanked the button from her slacks and impatiently tugged the cotton fabric down her legs. It was only once the slacks had pulled been pulled down to her frail ankles, that Snape grew confident enough to help. Snatching the ballet flats off her child-sized feet, the Double-Agent launched them across the bedroom, her matching pair of black stockings following not long after. One graceful wriggle later, and the slacks were removed as well, the surprisingly soft fabric crumpled in a heap at her feet.

Panting heavily, Sirius gazed down at the lacey fabric concealing the object he had desired most whilst locked away in Azkaban. Overwhelmed with excitement, he pressed down atop her and planted a sloppy kiss to the nape of her neck, the action eliciting a shudder of pure pleasure from Snape.

Assured of her mutual enjoyment, Sirius eagerly snaked his right hand beneath the silky fabric. Pressing his calloused palm against the furry warmth, he edged two adventurous fingers towards the entrance, prepared for an unhindered passage.

But at the last moment, Snape stiffened, recoiling so violently Sirius thought he might have somehow hurt her. Withdrawing his digits immediately, he sat upright, holding his hands up in the promise of surrender.

Snape blushed profusely, the cherry redness creeping from her cheeks all the way down to her bare chest, the healthy flush only serving to excite him more.

"Shall I stop?" Sirius pressed, steeling himself for the answer.

"No!" Her reply was nearly desperate, and again the pallid woman blushed.

Sirius need not ask her a third time. For while Snape's expression was that of a nervous variety, her dark eyes were aflame with determination and desire. Thus assured, he seized the black garment on either side, one strong tug ripping the bloomers from her hips.

"Are you _sure_?" He questioned once more, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

 _"Please_."

Thus ordained, Sirius quickly shafted his own clothes, baring himself completely before two minutes could even elapse. Shyly, Snape stared upward at his naked form, a mixture of trepidation and arousal flicking across her normally expressionless face.

All at once, Sirius was self-conscious, a great expanse of time having elapsed since he was last naked before a woman. And while a few long months of recuperation might have given him a portion of his muscles and confidence back, Sirius fully realized that he was not yet fully returned to the peak of physical fitness.

But if Snape harbored any abhorrence for his prison-damaged body, she did not make her aversions known. Instead, the potion mistress was focused on his erected manhood, her large eyes riddled with fear.

"You're a virgin." Sirius realized, amazed at his stupidity at having not realized such a thing beforehand.

She was, after all, an unmarried Slytherin.

Unable to deny such an accusation, the black-haired woman colored once more, looking quickly away to her left.

"I'll be gentle." Sirius assured, desperate to continue. "Do you still want to?"

She gave a nod that, while hesitant, was firm.

"Be careful of my left shoulder." She cautioned, shrugging the body part in question.

Curious, he glanced downward at her naked form, greeted with the revolting sight of large, black bruise sore oozing white puss through an ill-applied and undersized bandage. But the Slytherin need not have worried about him being gentle; for so skinny was she, that Sirius was _already_ worried about putting too much of his weight against her.

"Just relax." He advised softly, blowing the words into her ear in order to excite her.

Not wanting to enter her while she was still so stiff and unrelaxed, for _her_ sake as well as his, Sirius went back to his age-old trick of finger exploration. Teasing the area in question with some skillful stroking, he poked in one finger and then two.

She froze initially, but when Sirius blew again into her ear she unstiffened, her breathing beginning to hitch as her right foot crept upward in pleasure. Satisfied with himself, he dared to sneak a peek at her expression.

Despite her eyes being turned backward in a fit of pleasure, Snape seemed to sense his gaze upon her face.

"The lights." Snape blushed. "Turn them off."

Despite his disappointment, Sirius reluctantly complied, _her_ comfort ultimately more important than his own. Snape, after all, owed him absolutely _nothing_ \- much less sex.

"Take a deep breath." He cautioned, having resumed his fiddling after killing the lights.

Obliging him by heeding his advice, the surly minx effectively allowed Sirius to slip insider her without much resistance. It was only once he was within her warm bounds, that the potion mistress stiffened, tensing up severely on his already uncomfortably aroused manhood.

"Go on." Snape ordered, her voice nearly imperceptible.

"I _can't_." Sirius asserted, pulling himself free. "You need to _relax_ first."

"I'm _trying_." She insisted, looking highly self-conscious. "It _hurts_."

A slender woman not yet deflowered, it came as no surprise to Sirius that her opening was proving difficult to navigate. Hoping to rectify the situation as tenderly as possible, without unnecessary discomfort to her part, he seized up the bottle of unscented lotion resting on his bedside table. Hoping the slippery liquid would prove sufficient to make the initial few impacts tolerable, he slathered on a generous portion to his manhood.

"Deep breath." He advised, once more.

At Snape's nod, he pushed himself inside her, the resistance minimal this time. In response, she gave a small cry, digging her sharp fingernails into his shoulder blades. Ignoring the painful sensation, he thrust again, and again. Until at last, she gave way to relaxation and began to enjoy the ordeal.

Sinking deeper and deeper into the pillows, Snape grasped at the pillows, a stifled moan spilling from her mouth ever few minutes or so. A performer at heart, the noises empowered him, and he soon found himself sliding in and out of her with a beast-like rhythm.

 _"Black!"_ She suddenly cried, melting into the mattress with a satisfied expression livening her face.

 _"Severus!"_ He responded, unwilling to dehumanize his temporary lover.

Sirius continued onwards for another ten minutes, eager to render his satisfaction complete. Realizing that he was dangerously close to approaching that plain of pleasure, he slipped out from her, snatching up the wand from his nightstand.

"Do you know the spell?" Sirius panted, desperately racking his brain for the answer.

Snape looked at him blankly, her ignorance needing no verbal confirmation.

Sirius could have cried from frustration, the injustice of being thwarted so close to his desired goal not at all lost on him. But before he could even scurry off the bed, in desperate pursuit of somewhere private to finish taking care of himself, Snape seized him about the waist and pulled him back down atop her.

"I'm unable to conceive." Snape assured him, dark eyes perfectly earnest.

Completely assured of the veracity of her statement, Sirius hurried back inside her, managing to thrust only a few more times before he erupted. Shuddering at his release, he collapsed atop her, panting heavily before he recalled her fragility and rolled off her.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they had both reached mutual satisfaction, dawn had risen, it's arrival heralded by a blood red sky. Sticky, and quite sore, Severus rolled away from her one-time lover, suddenly ashamed of her nakedness and wanton behavior. Sensing her shame, or rather deducing it from the angry blush on her cheeks, Black quickly turned his gaze away from her bared form- blushing profusely himself as he gave her permission to make use of his bathroom. Nodding her thanks, Severus crawled out the bed and pretended not to notice as Black struggled to wrestle down the evidence of last night's romp beneath his hands. Eager to be away from the side-effect of her lasciviousness, she scurried into the master-bathroom, making use of a large pillow to cover her shame.

Once within the relatively safety of said bathroom, she stood before a full-length mirror and examined the damage that had been done to her body during the ill-conceived affair. For while Black had been as gentle and careful as promised, the affair had not been altogether painless. The obvious soreness that had come with finally being penetrated aside, the places where the animagi had thrust up against her had bruised, the fatless flesh now speckled an unseemly black and blue. Her shoulder wound had also ruptured sometime during the scandalous evening, the stubborn injury now just as sore as when she had received it the first time a month ago.

Pungent, the seeping wound was currently sending a lazy stream of viscous goo down her shoulder blade. Though the smell of it made her nauseous, as well as the sight, Severus dared not make use of one of Black's ornate bath towels to wipe it away- fearing that she might stain the impractical and impossibly white fabric with the mess. She grabbed up a generous portion of toilet paper instead, using the soft squares to staunch the flow of her wound as best she could. As disgusting as she found the task, which was _quite_ , it simply wouldn't do for her to allow the injury to become infected again.

"You ought to have that thing looked at." Black advised, pushing into the oversized bathroom without knocking.

Snatching a bath towel from its designated shelf, Severus wrapped the fabric about herself in the space of seconds, aggravated with the Gryffindor for invading her privacy.

"Who do you think you are?" She demanded, folding her arms about her already covered breasts.

Instead of leaving like a proper gentleman, Black rolled his grey eyes at her angry scolding and pulled open the medicine cabinet above the sink. Removing an antique silver razor from an intricately carved ivory case, the Gryffindor casually tested its sharpness with a quick tap of his finger before deciding he was satisfied with its quality.

"What do you think you're doing?" Severus hissed, outraged at the Marauder's complete lack of consideration. "Can you _not_ see that I am indecent?"

"Why, I think I am shaving." Black smiled, lathering up his stubbly chin with lavender-scented shaving cream.

"It is not at all proper for you to be in here!" Severus growled. "I am not clothed."

Black gave her a pointed stare before turning back to the mirror and resuming his morning routine. "Unless you're quite the sorceress, I believe you have the same body I saw only moments ago. What is there for me to see that I haven't already seen?"

"Being granted one liberty does not mean you've been awarded them all." Severus countered.

"Spare me your lecture." Black murmured, shaving as he spoke. "As you discovered last night, I am not a man to steal liberties."

"If that is so," Severus reasoned, "You will leave this room so that I may make use of the shower."

"I need to finish my shave." Black dismissed.

"Do you mean to tell me that _this_ bathroom is the only one in your manor?" Severus demanded.

"Certainly not." Black assured. "But _this_ bathroom is the one with my supplies."

"Are you incapable of carrying your supplies to another bathroom?" Severus demanded. "Or is this all a ruse so that you may watch me as I shower?"

"The glass is charmed," Severus rebuttled, "I could not watch you no matter _how_ much I might wish I could."

Severus blushed profusely at the seemingly genuine remark, and slipped into the all-glass shower before Black could gain the satisfaction of seeing her discomposure. Stopping only to allow the unneeded towel to the marble floor, she quickly slammed the door shut, not wanting to put any bit of her nakedness on display to Black.

Fiddling with the knobs until at last the faucet let forth a steady stream of hot water, Severus stood with her body awkwardly angled so that her shoulder might not come into contact with the heavy torrent of water. Lacking her own toiletries, she made use of those belonging to Black, hoping fervently that the manly stench of his soap would not be quite so pungent once rinsed from her skin.

Scrubbing away the foreign stickiness from betwixt her legs with her fingers, Severus bit down hard on her bottom and strived not think of how disappointed and wroth her mother would be were she still alive and privy to the knowledge of what her daughter had just done. An old-fashioned woman with a Victorian mindset, the prudish woman had once gone so far as to prohibit her daughter from anything that was either lacey or red. Never one to beat her child without a good reason, Severus labored under no delusions that her Mother would've beaten her bloody for the infraction she had just committed. And Tobias only would do worse, making use of his leather belt to flay the flesh from her back as Mother watched in fear and begged him to not be so rough.


	3. Chapter 3

A self-admittedly scrawny woman, perpetually malnourished both by choice and debilitating stress, it was not all unusual for Severus to go a few months without her 'bloody visitor' making an appearance and wreaking havoc on her body. And, in fact, aside from a few intermittent droplets of blood being experienced just a few weeks ago, it had been an _entire_ three months without that pesky nuisance of womanhood troubling her.

As such, it came as no real concern to her when the random bouts of nausea and vomiting first presented themselves. It was, after all, nothing more than the pygmy flu, passed unto her from Fenrir who had been feverish and coughing all over her in line at Flourish and Blott's not too long ago. That this particular strain seemed to be lasting longer than the usual week or so was nothing at all to concern herself about. She was a sickly woman after all, and notoriously slow to recover from ailments either small _or_ great.

No, Severus didn't worry at all. At least, not until she felt her breasts grow tender and sore. For whilst expecting Draco, it had never been the _morning sickness_ Narcissa had complained about, nor the unseemly weight-gain. No, it had always been her _breasts_ the blonde woman had whinged about, the engorged sacks of flesh giving their owner not real comfort until well after Draco had been weaned.

The real worry only began that morning, once Severus found it crucial to investigate matters further after her favorite brassiere had proved too small and tight to wear. For no matter how many times Severus had told herself that all was all, and that her sickness would soon pass, the undeniable truth had impressed itself upon her that morning with a strength that was impossible to ignore.

Walking into her cramped bathroom at Spinner's End, Severus held her breath, ardently hoping against hope that the results of her investigation would not be what she already imagined them to be. Flipping on the light with an uncharacteristically shaky hand, she shuffled into the partly-moldy confines, struggling to keep down the bile that roiled within her stomach. Not daring to stand for the reveal, she slowly edged herself down unto the well-stained brim of the tub. Staring downward at the peeling green linoleum, she snaked a hand upward toward the cracked bathroom sink, fumbling blindly with her fingers until at last they brushed against something hard and rectangular.

Before what little resolve she had could vanish, Severus drew the Muggle object nearer and squinted at it in the dim lighting. She was promptly mocked, the appearance of those two blue lines taunting her in a way nothing else in her life ever had. Were she a weaker creature, Severus might have wept as she tossed the positive pregnancy test into the bin to join the other two.

But she was stronger than that, _much_ stronger, and she would not give way to despair until magical methods had been exhausted to confirm her affliction. Thus decided, Severus snaked a boney foot forward and made use of her toes to raise the closed toilet lid. Impossible to see the contents from her visage, she got to her feet and approached the toilet as slowly as the cramped confines would allow, ardently hoping all the while that the potion she had just urinated in had remained black.

To her great dismay, she found the contents had become a leafy green, the vibrant color all but solidifying her unsavory theory. _Pregnant_. She, of all people, was pregnant.

Before the confirmation could fully register, Severus promptly seated herself upon the toilet, effectively concealing the unpleasant evidence from her scarcely-believing eyes. Inhaling with a shudder, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the graying tank, determined not to panic. Such childishness would not do, not at all.

Panic was quite unnecessary, Severus told herself. After all, she could only be six weeks along at that point. A paltry amount of time whereas pregnancy was concerned. Why, hadn't her own mother told her of loosing three babies in the womb before _she_ came along- all sickly and frail and sure to die as well? And as for her grandmother, hadn't the crotchety old woman once laid claim to five miscarriages of her _own_? Her maternal aunt, _too_ , had been well-known to have suffered through a series of miscarriages.

The Prince seed was defective, Severus determined, weak and virtually useless when it came to producing healthy children, let alone males. She was wrong to be so worried, _silly_ even, for in a few weeks' time who was to say that the problem growing inside her would not rectify itself?


	4. Chapter 4

The rusting truck that had once belonged to her father roared loudly as Severus steered it down a newly-paved street at the break dawn, its entire frame shaking and shivering and only held together by a series of creative charms and spells. Irritated by the harsh, grating noise, and more than a little mortified as other drivers stared, she used a shaking hand to bring the radio to life. Cringing as discordant rock music filled the cab, she rapidly swapped between stations until at last she came upon one playing music from the 50's and 60's. When she discovered it was Elvis playing, Severus was able to relax for a moment. _Almost_.

Had she not just finished driving herself to a city _three_ entire hours away from Cokesworth, one that was new and utterly unfamiliar to her, she might not even be stressed at all. But as matters currently stood, Severus was a stranger in a strange land and her anxiety was at an all time high. She could scarcely remember the last time she'd felt so vulnerable, and it was all she could do to keep the tears at bay. What good would crying do, after all? Tears could not undo her foolishness, they would only _add_ to it. What right did she have to be so distraught, when all the trouble she was facing was no fault but her own?

Pulling up to a stoplight, Severus dared a peak at the map she'd laid on the dusty passenger seat, trying to determine which way she go before the light turned green. Painfully sleep-deprived, her befuddled mind still managed to guide her left, her wits not entirely vanquished by fault of her condition. Slowly easing the monster of a vehicle in the correct direction, she startled as it shuttered and prayed to whatever deities there might be that it would not die on her when she was so very close to her destination. She did not have enough money for a cab to take her home. In fact, she had hardly had enough money to fill her tank.

Thankfully, at the last moment and after a series of angry honks, the truck roared back to life with a brutish lurch- sending her head flying into the steering wheel but otherwise leaving her unscathed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she shifted herself back into a comfortable position and creeped down the road she had just entered, keeping one eye peeled for a building she knew would make no efforts to be ostentatious.

Severus had to circle around the block four times before she finally found, and once she did she had to make another circuit in order to find out how to enter the parking lot. Frustrated at the waste of gas, and poor building design, she ushered the antiquated truck unto the property and parked it beneath a large oak in the hopes of concealing her presence at such an ill-reputed place. Even this far away from Cokesworth she would take no chances, somebody's eyes were _always_ watching.

Grabbing her worn purse from the glovebox, Severus closed her eyes and searched for the strength to leave the truck. She was brave she told herself repeatedly, even as she shook and trembled. The Sorting Hat might have placed in her Slytherin but she was just as brave as any Gryffindor, and better for it too, as her bravery was not tarnished by recklessness. She could do this, she _could_. She had faced her father's wrath with seldom a tear, had lied to the Dark Lord's face multiple times, what was _this_ compared to any of those?

Before she had a chance to open her eyes on her own volition, a sharp _rap_ sounded on her window. Uncharacteristically taken off guard, Severus flung her purse at the window, forgetting her excitement that it was still closed. Muttering a curse as the contents of the reticule spilled all over the dirty flooring and rolled out of reach beneath the seats, she turned and levelled a glare at the culprit.

It was a large man who had accosted her, his sleeveless shirt giving view to a set off arms that were heavily tattooed and grotesquely muscular. Alarmed, she felt for the wand she'd tucked beneath her thigh for the journey, having not wanted to leave it out of reach in her purse. Oblivious to the shock he had bestowed upon her, the bearded man knocked on her window once more, this time going so far as to flash a smile.

Outraged yet urious, Severus slowly lowered the window of the truck until an inch of space appeared. Perfectly pleased, the stranger awarded her yet another smile, his teeth crooked but decidedly clean. Still scowling, she raised a dark brow and hoped he was smart enough to take it as an invitation to speak.

"Sabrina? Sabrina Snape?" He questioned, looking down at a clipboard in his meaty hands. "I'm Frank Weatherspoon, I'm here to escort you inside."

Severus frowned. Why would she ever had need of an escort?

"I can find my own way." She snapped at him, still vexed at her spilled possessions.

Frank held his hands up in surrender but remained where he stood.

"There are a few protesters by the door, Sabrina. The Clinic hires me to scare them into behaving."

"Severus!" She barked at the escort. " _Severus_!"

Growing up in a muggle community, the butchering of her name was not at all an uncommon experience for her. But to hear something so personal belonging to her misspoken on a day like today was all too much for her already frayed nerves.

"I'm sorry." Frank seemed to shrink before her eyes. "My glasses were broken last week, I must have misread your name."

Feeling quite shrewish, Severus worked to soften the harsh look usually maligning her face.

"How many protesters are there?" She queried.

"Five." Frank confirmed, sounding much aggrieved. "And some are quite rowdy, so it's best you let me lead you in."

Defeated, Severus cracked open the door the truck and jumped down, nearly slipping on a patch of mud before catching herself on the door handle. Straightening herself, she stretched up on the tips of her toes to lock the vehicle, resigned to the fact that she would would later have to retrieve all her misplaced objects.

"Right this way...Selena was it?"

"Severus." She hissed, anxiety making her none the kinder.

"I've never heard such a name." Frank chattered, oblivious to her sour mood.

"He was a Catholic Saint." Severus volunteered. "My Father named me."

That she was not the boy he has so ardently wanted was of little consequence to Tobias when it came time to bestow upon her a name. And while the thought of being named for a martyr had once been amusing to the young Severus, the joy of such a unique moniker had soon lost its appeal when even the nun's at her parochial school had mocked her for it. The only relief from _that_ particular taunting had come via Hogwarts, where uncommon names were the norm and not at all that unique.

"Well," Frank began, "It must have been nice not to share a name with another person in your year. When _I_ was still in school, there was seven other Frank's in my year alone."

Severus nodded along, though her thought were on matters much more important. A member of the Magical Community, and self-exiled from the Muggle community, she had no insurance at all. Having wanted to come prepared for all obstacles, she had brought along the entirety of her meagre savings, all 213 pounds- but would that be enough? The thought that it might not be continues to concern her, and the closer the got to the small building hidden by trees the more worried she became. It simply wouldn't do for her to embarrass herself by not having enough to cover the costs. The Muggle police might be called to intervene, and if _that_ happened, her name might end up in the crime beat. She shuddered to think of how her neighbors would treat her if they discovered her secret. The nuns would harass her more than they already did, and Joseph Kennedy was sure to stop mowing her lawn for her.

She did not have long to dwell on her thoughts, for rounding a corner they came upon the protesters flanking the doors to the Happy Ending Clinic. Comprised mostly of pimple-faced teenagers, save their leader who appeared to be a young clergyman, they hollered and snarled so loudly a blind person might have assumed their numbers closer to twenty.

"Pay them no mind." Frank advised, struggling to be heard above the din.

"I will be sure to do so." Severus drawled sardonically.

United in their resolve, thought perhaps not equally matched in their derision for the rabble-rousers, they walked in tandem toward the wooden double-doors. Had she not been concentrating on her monetary woes, Severus might have laughed at just how feeble the trouble-makers seemed. She could handle _both_ Fred and George Weasley without batting an eye and these Muggle children were nothing compared the combined forces of _those_ two.

They were nearly at the door when the youngest of the group found her voice.

" _Murderer!_ " She screeched, blue eyes blazing.

Severus flinched. That word was not usually applied to her, not from _Muggles_ who didn't know her affiliation anyways.

"Come along." Frank encouraged, pulling the door open for her. "Pay them no mind."

Shrugging away the insult with dignity, Severus ducked through the door in pursuit of silence. Frank came readily behind her, his ginormous hands working to quickly force the door shut.

"Your baby has a heartbeat at five weeks!" The blonde screeched, her voice muffled as the doors slammed shut.

Before Severus could even react to such a statement, a skinny woman left her perch from behind the front desk and hurried over to them, her brown curls bouncing in her freckled face.

"Goodness!" She squeaked. "I am _so_ sorry about that!"

"It's fine." Severus growled. "I'm _fine_."

In truth, she was decidedly nauseous. But that was of nobody's concern but her own. Pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, she followed silently after the receptionist, willing away her discomfort as they made their way to the front desk.

"Let me start by welcoming you to The Happy Endings Clinic, Se...Severus?, is that it?"

"Yes." Severus hissed, annoyed with everyones apparent lack of literacy.

"What a beautiful name." The chipper woman flattered, passing over to her a few pieces of paper attached to a clipboard. "Could you please fill those out for the doctor?"

Nodding her consent, she slithered into a plastic chair far away from the door, not wanting for anyone to catch an errant glimpse of her face.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus had sobbed profusely all the way back to Spinner's End, choking and spluttering on the mucus and tears as she had blindly navigated her truck through the work congested highway. Even now as she lay atop the threadbare sofa in her living room she sobbed, her embarrassment and frustration all too much bear as she considered how her recent actions would affect her work for the Order and her spying. While she didn't doubt it was possible, it would certainly be very difficult to do either of those things whilst expecting. Even _now_ she could scarcely keep her food down, much less sleep. And that was with her being only six weeks along. How much dizzier could she become before her work suffered for it, before _people_ began to notice.

Severus stiffened at the very thought, and nearly panicked as she thought of how Albus might react to the news. Her psuedo-father would be furious, absolutely enraged. She was sure of it. And that ire would not be contained to her either, unfortunately. Albus would positively _kill_ Black were he to catch wind of what he'd gotten up to with his daughter. And while Severus wasn't particularly overly-fond of said Anamgi, the fact remained that she had been a willing participant in this debacle.

She could always find another clinic, she thought, trying to soothe herself. The one in Slateport wasn't even that far away compared to the one she had just fled. There was even an antique bookshop on the way that she had loved visiting as teenager. If it was still standing, she might even reward herself with the treat of a book for making such a hard decision.

Or she could try again to make the abortificant potion. _That_ would likely be the easier option, not to mention cheaper. That her three attempts at concocting the simply brew had failed meant nothing, absolutely nothing. Such a potion demanded a clear mind for it be created. If she waited only a few days for her mind to settle, she was confident it would work.

As the decisions threatened to overwhelm her, Severus concentrated on the one certainty she possessed. Which was that of knowing that she could not return to The Happy Ending's Clinic. She did possess within her that much fortitude or resolve. While the staff of such a place had been happy enough, and downright kind as well as likeable, they had been too...clinical and dismissive in their speech. It was not _really_ a baby, they had persisted, it was only a clump of cells...a _parasite_. Severus flinched as she recalled such an ugly word, and unbidden her hand crept to her flat belly.

 _Albus_ had been a clump of cells at one point, _Lily_ had been a clump cells, so too had their supposed savior the Golden Boy. And Merlin only knew what state the Wizarding World would be in if the Potter's had decided they didn't _want_ the baby they had created.

 _But_ , a vicious whisper in her head jeered, _hadn't the Dark Lord been just a clump of cells. Wouldn't it have been the kind thing for him to have never been born? What of Grindelwald? He broke your father's heart and threatened the lives of wizards everywhere._

Severus frowned. _Draco_ , her little Godson, _had been a clump of cells._

 _Your father will be ashamed of you, he'll not want to see you again_.

Severus swallowed a lump in her throat, and shooed away the very thought. If Albus could find it within him to forgive her for getting Lupin fired, he would forgive her this.

 _You're unmarried. Everyone will think you a filthy whore._

She had been called worse, _much_ worse. She could endure another moniker, another slur. She was _strong_. She was a _spy_ for Merlin's sake. It would take more than a few insults to break her resolve.

 _You'll grow fat, just like Narcissa did_.

Severus was ashamed to admit it, but that thought was the one to give her the most pause. Just the very thought of Narcissa's swollen stomach made her shudder. But, she reasoned, there was no need for _her_ grow huge. Ambrosia Nott had not gained very much when she had been expecting Theodore, only a few pounds at most. Narcissa had gained so much only because she gave into her cravings without moderation. Severus was not so weak, _she_ had better control.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus shifted uncomfortably in the lobby of the Portsmouth Health Clinic, unable to relax in a room so very crowded and loud. Having come in that morning to find the room already crowded beyond reason, she had made the decision to seat herself between an expectant woman with a toddler at her feet and the wall. It had, at the time, seemed the safest option. Unfortunately, she had not given any thoughts at all as to just how difficult it would be to scoot passed a hyper toddler should the need for the loo arise. It seemed every time she rose to her feet, the boy would stretch himself out upon the carpet, rendering an easy exit impossible.

"He's not bothering you, is he?" The swollen mother asked, after Severus had given a pointed sigh. "I'd put him on my lap but-." Rather than finish her train of thought, the harried mother placed a hand upon the mound that was her stomach.

"If you could have him stand aside for just a moment-"

"Tommy, get up off the floor and let the lady through."

The toddler was clumsy as he rose to his feet, and a full two minutes elapsed before Severus was able to scoot by and find the restroom. Scarcely making it in time, and nearly knocking a young girl to the floor in her haste, she pushed inside a cubicle and all but ripped the button from her trousers as she yanked them down. Sighing in relief as her anguished bladder emptied, she leaned against the tank for a moment before cleaning herself and making her way to the spotless sinks.

She was still scrubbing her hands when a stout little brunette poked her head into the room, a clipboard in one hand and a fountain pen in the other. Figuring the nurse had come to do her business, Severus paid her little mind until she spoke.

"Severus Prince?"

While the woman had actually gotten her name correct, the pronunciation of such was so incorrect that Severus almost didn't register she was being addressed.

"Yes?" She queried, when at last her brain the connection.

"I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Forrester is ready for you." She smiled. "I'll wait for you out in the lobby."

Nodding, Severus left the nurse to her duties and finished scrubbing her hands. Once satisfied with their cleanliness, she methodically dried them with the paper towels provided before slowly making her way out into the lobby.

"Right this way, Mrs. Prince." The nurse directed, gesturing with her pen down a long corridor.

Severus shuffled after her, unreasonably nervous. Having already resolved to keep the baby, should no miscarriages occur, the anxiety she felt was inarguably out of place. What was she so afraid of?

"Come right on in." The Nurse called back to her, throwing open the door to room 4.

Severus slid into the unwelcoming white room with grace, despite having to duck under the shorter woman's arm to do so. Moving aside to allow the employee entrance, she stood awkwardly and waited for further instruction. She had not, after all, been inside a doctor's office since receiving the necessary inoculations for catholic school.

"If I could just take your measurements, Mrs. Prince."

Looking up from the floorboards, Severus looked in dread upon the combination height/weight scale.

"I am 5'4 and 9 stone." She fibbed, taking care to keep her voice even.

Nurse Ramona gave her body only a cursory look before pursing her full lips in an expression of not-so-polite disbelief.

"I'm afraid I need an official measurement."

Having been reprimanded most severely by Poppy, whilst in school, for the failure to gain any considerable weight beyond fifth year, the very notion of stepping onto a scale made Severus's skin crawl. But she saw no way around it. She had already embarrassed herself by running from the clinic in a mess of tears. She would not act so childishly here.

Facing away from the digital scale, she stepped onto the metal platform in resignation, preparing herself for the verbal tirade she was sure was coming. Sure enough, Nurse Ramona soon gave a sharp gasp at whatever number appeared.

"Five feet Three inches," She announced, struggling to sound nonchalant, "And almost seven stone."

Though she knew those calculations should alarm her, Severus could not help but feel a small measure of victory at the announcement. While all the girls who had bullied her in school, which were many, were growing fat in their thirties here _she_ was still svelte and able to fit into her school robes.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you take a seat for me?" Nurse Ramona requested, scribbling down the incriminating numbers on her clipboard. "I need to take your blood pressure."

Relieved when no lecture came, Severus settled herself down onto a cushioned chair and pulled up the sleeve of her purple jumper.

"I actually need the left arm, dear." The older woman corrected, removing the blood pressure cuff from a drawer.

"No." Severus refused, ever conscious of the ugly mark marring her forearm.

"It's policy-"

"I said _no_." She hissed, much more vehement in her refusal.

Shrugging, the short woman wrapped the cuff about her patient's right arm without further argument. "An arm is an arm, I suppose." She reasoned, meticulously going about her work.

As soon as the numbers were recorded, Ramona removed the cuff and and allowed Severus to return her jumper sleeve back to its propers position.

"Doctor Forester will be with you shortly." She advised, making her exit.

Relieved to be at last alone, Severus leaned back in chair and breathed heavily as she tried to massage the soreness from her breasts. As ashamed as she was to be doing so in a public venue, let alone at all, their heaviness really was proving quite uncomfortable. She hadn't even been able to force her brassiere on that morning, and had resorted to wearing a colorful jumper to hide her frame. It with a great amount of guilt that she reflected on how peevishly she had treated Narcissa's complaints about the same ordeal. If she known then what she knew now, there would have been a lot more compassion involved in those conversations.

Severus was just removing her hands from beneath her jumper, abandoning her quest for relief, when a sharp rapping sounded at the door. Quickly folding her hands into her lap, she crossed her legs and straightened the hem of her purple skirt, all in an effort to appear innocent.

"Good morning, Mrs. Prince." The towering man intoned, gliding into the room without ever once looking away from his charts.

"Good morning." Severus replied, suddenly self-conscious to find herself alone in a room with a strange man.

"And how are we doing today?" The bespectacled man inquired, still flipping through papers.

"I am well." Severus evaded.

In truth, she she spent the majority of the truck ride over vomiting into an old popcorn pail, the scent of which, by the way, only served to make her stomach more upset. Compounding _that_ unpleasantness was the distinct lack of sleep she had experienced last evening, the cause of which, of course, was a particularly nasty dispelling of her stomach.

"This is your first baby, Mrs. Prince?  
"It is." Severus confirmed, disliking the man's scrutinizing gaze.

Unlike Albus's piercing gaze, the doctor's expression had a disquieting resemblance of a scientist examining a particularly boring specimen.

"And this is your first _pregnancy_?" Dr. Forrester droned.

"Yes, of course." Severus quickly confirmed, fiddling with the fake wedding ring she'd placed that morning on her finger.

"When was your last menstrual cycle, Mrs. Prince?"

Severus colored violently at the question, more than a little taken aback by the bluntness of the question. Why, when she had first gotten her ' _womanly affliction,'_ her mother had immediately forbid her to speak of it wherever there was danger of male overhearing. How, then, could she ever be expected to answer such a personal question?

"I'm six weeks along." She informed, unable to meet the man's gaze.

"Yes," The doctor sighed, "But when was your last _period_?"

Flinching at the vulgar language, Severus fiddled with her skirt and struggled to find her tongue.

"I cannot recall the exact date." She admitted in a whisper. "I do not very often...experience such an event."

Her answer actually prompted the distracted man to set aside his clipboard.

"Do you often skip your cycles, Mrs. Prince?" He interrogated, looking upon her as if she had done something wrong.

"Quite often." She confessed, her cheeks ever burning with shame.

Clucking his tongue, the balding redhead scribbled something on his notepad.

"And you are _certain_ you are pregnant, Mrs. Prince?"

Severus felt her lip curl at the insinuation she was ignorant of the workings of her own body, but if the doctor took any real notice of her expression he was apathetic of it.

"I am entirely certain!" She barked, sitting up straighter. "I've taken a dozen tests!"

"I am only being thorough, Mrs. Prince." Doctor Forester advised. "Wishful thinking can be a powerful a delusion in women."

Severus wanted nothing more than to inform said man that _this_ pregnancy was real and by _no_ means the result of wishful thinking. But at the last moment she contained herself, not wanting to receive whatever judgement might come with the deliverance of such a bold statement.

"Do you have a family history of miscarriages, Mrs. Snape?" The doctor asked, trudging along with his rehearsed questionnaire.

"Yes," She admitted, starting to regret ever having come, "On my maternal side. My mother had a few and my grandmother also."

Dr. Forrester nodded away, his pen scribbling across the yellow pages of his notepad.

"Is it known what caused these miscarriages?"

Severus shook her head, having never once dared to pursue such a sensitive topic with women who were so very fond of giving a backhanded slap.

"Were these women all of a... 'slight' build, like you, Mrs. Prince?"

The doctor delivered the word _slight_ in a manner so sarcastic, Severus might almost have been impressed had it not been for the circumstances.

"They were all thin women, yes." She sniffed.

"I see." He droned, pushing his glasses back unto his face. "Now, you haven't experienced any cramping- have you?"

"I have not." Severus confirmed. "Although I have been experiencing _dreadful_ morning sickness."

"That is to be expected with pregnancy, Mrs. Prince." The doctor condescended, his smile smarmy.

"I am sick almost constantly." Severus volunteered, desperate to be given some sort of relief before leaving.

"Mrs. Prince," The doctor croned, "Your body is experiencing an influx of hormones. It is only natural for you be a little sick as a result."

"My Godson's mother was never _this_ ill." She countered, unwilling to believer herself an exaggerator.

"Every woman experiences pregnancy differently." The doctor dismissed. "One you get past the first trimester, the sickness should abate. On the slim chance it does not, well, _then_ we can discuss medications."

Having no choice but to appeal to authority on the subject, Severus slumped in her seat and cursed her ill luck. That being with child was proving so difficult, was not anything she had thought to expect.


	7. Chapter 7

Severus sweated profusely atop her bed in the heat of the June afternoon, struggling ardently to force her favorite pair trousers unto her body. Cursing loudly, she wriggled frenetically about, hoping pure will-power alone would aide her in such an important endeavor. When, at last, said phenomenon failed her, Severus might have screamed her frustration to the entirety of Spinner's End. Now suitably exhausted, she continued to lie prostrate as she dabbed at her swampy brow with an already saturated napkin. She would close her eyes, just for a moment she thought. There was, after all, _plenty_ of time for her to bring Lupin's Wolfsbane potion to the Burrow. If the damn wolf grew impatient, well, that was _his_ burden to bare- _not_ hers.

Groaning as she stretched her tense body across the majority of the tiny bed, Severus let closed her eyes and sighed as the sleep-deprived orbs stopped burning. _Pickles_. Scowling, she turned to lie on her side and face the window. Though the landscape before her was irredeemably hideous, the chirping of birds could salvage her distaste so long as she kept her eyes shut. _Chocolate frosting_. With a whispered curse, she pinched a small bit of fat of her thigh, hoping the pain would serve to remind her mind just _who_ it was messing with. She was an expert legilimens, after all, one more than capable of fooling the Dark Lord himself. That her hormone-addled brain believed it could master _her_ was comical.

 _Pickles dipped in chocolate frosting._

Severus scowled at the incessant nagging, already furious with her inner voice for having caused her to gain so much weight her favorite trousers no longer fit. If her cursed conscious had not been all week long nagging her for food, no weight gain of any kind would have ever occured. But as it was, she was only human. One could only tolerate so much harrassment from their own mind, after all, before they were forced to cave and obey orders. For peace of mind, if not anything else.

 _You haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. Have a pickle, go ahead. Have some frosting, too._

Defeated, she rose reluctantly to her swollen feet, moving slowly so as to avoid yet another dizzy spell that morning. When, at long last, she found herself satisfied with her balance, Severus shuffled slowly from the cramped room in pursuit of the kitchen. Taking great care not to fall down the treacherous steps, she thumped once against the back of her bookshelf and stepped back to allow the wall to recede and grant her access to the living room. Stepping carefully to avoid the most splintery of the floorboards, as well as the rotted, she danced around the decrepit sofa and into the kitchen.

Perpetually musty-smelling from the mold eating away at the garish green linoleum, the kitchen was all ill lit as it was stocked. But, Severus frowned, all the mattered very little when there was chocolate frosting in the pantry and half a jar of pickles in the fridge. A visit to the grocery could wait until she felt well enough to leave the house, after all. Breakfast, on the other hand, could not. That said meal would involve neither bacon nor eggs was of but little consequence to her when she reflected on the very many summer mornings and afternoons she had gone without food.

Removing the frosting from its hiding spot behind a dusty bag of flour, she backed away from the pantry as she worked to remove the red lid with eager fingers. Gourmet chocolates be _damned_ , there was absolutely better than a tub of Betty Crocker. Smiling wickedly at her gluttony, Severus scurried over to the rattling refrigerator and pushed aside the carton of eggs to get to her pickles. Carefully removing the glass jar, she deposited both containers unto the wobbly kitchen table on the prefix of _trying_ to make her meal appear more appropriate. Fetching a spoon from her mismatched set in a tiny drawer, she promptly seated herself in a chair and used her wand to open the pickle jar she knew to be stubborn.

Snatching a pickle from the tangy brine, she used the spoon in her left hand to apply a more than generous portion of frosting to the sour vegetable. Though she knew such a combination was more than just a little disgusting, in fact it was downright vile, a delighted shudder rippled through her body at the first crunch. Relishing the sensation of any food not wanting to make her hurl, she attacked the rest of her meal with gusto, pausing only long enough to take a few sips of water between bites. It wasn't until the church bells starting ringing that Severus recalled she had places to be.

Irritated, she chucked the empty containers in the garbage bin without any regards to the fact that the glass might shatter and make removing the bag a chore in the distance future. Stomping back into the bedroom, as much as her swollen ankles would allow, she threw open a drawer in her dresser and removed the pair of bottoms she referred to as her 'fat' trousers. Quickly slipping them on, she fumbled about a drawer in her dresser until she found a belt serviceable enough to keep them up on her waist where they belonged.

Running back downstairs, Severus ducked into the cellar where she did all her brewing and plucked up the Wolfsbane potion from the old pingpong table she used as a workstation. Taking care to place a rubber lid atop the still-warm goblet to prevent spillage, she squeezed closed her eyes and apparated away from the cobweb filled space.

Severus landed within the Burrow's garden with an unseemly grunt, all but forcing herself not to vomit as her body rejected the aftermath of her apparition. Hoping pain might work to distract her mind from her stomachs discomfort, she bit down hard her lips and trudged forward. The sooner she got the potion to Lupin, the sooner she could crawl back into bed for a much-needed nap. And, if she felt up to it when she awoke, more frosting-pickle.

Careful to avoid the bite-happy gnomes infesting the garden, as well as the abandoned toys riddling the yard, Severus soon arrived at the Burrow's kitchen door. Making certain that her robes were still concealing her belly, she rose her left hand and knocked loudly upon the thick door. When five minutes elapsed without answer, she knocked all the louder. Despite playing a crucial role for the Order, Severus had never been able to comply with Molly Weasley's "no-knocking-necessary" policy. Such a proclamation was far too informal for her tastes and, what more, Severus knew the offer did not _truly_ extend to her. While she might have been a member of of the Order she was, by no means, a _part_ of the organization.

She was about to knock for a third time when the door flew open and revealed a frazzled Molly- her red curls unsmoothed and littered with a generous portion of colorful confetti.

"Severus," The harried mother smiled, " _There_ you are."

"Here I am." Severus agreed, holding out the goblet.

"I'm afraid you'll have to bring it inside for me, Dearie." Molly apologized, holding up two very flour-caked hands.

Severus bit down an annoyed sigh and followed quietly after the older woman, figuring the path of least resistance would be the one that got her home sooner. Trudging carefully up the three concrete steps, she soon enough found herself in the warmth of the kitchen, its smells a delicious medley of cinnamon, frosting, and vanilla.

"You'll have to excuse the mess." Molly apologized again, working to clear a spot on the countertop riddled with mixing bowls and pans. "We've just finished celebrating."

"With seven children that must be a monthly occurrence." Severus observed, placing the goblet on a chair as she moved to help the beleaguered woman.

"Well," Molly said with a laugh, "I suppose I can't argue with _that_."

Wondering why the stout woman did not simply call in her small horde of children to help clean the mess they had surely profited from, Severus grabbed up a clean towel and set to work drying the dishes that had accumulated on the side of the sink not filled with soaking pans. For as much as disliked the great majority of the Order, Molly had always been more than a little kind to her.

"Oh," Molly piped, looking quite embarrassed, "There is no need for that. You're a _guest_! You didn't even have any cake!"

Severus couldn't help but wonder which part of that statement bothered the Weasley Matriarch the most. The fact that she had not had cake thrust upon her, or the fact that a guest was helping her to wash up the dishes from a party she had even been invited to. Were the older woman more tolerant of cheeky remarks, Severus might have asked her.

"I do not mind helping out."

Molly frowned and shook her head, but argued the point no further other than to pointedly remark, "I wish you were as comfortable with not knocking as you are with doing my housework for me, Dearie."

"It is only polite to knock." Severus countered, struggling to dry an oversized mixing bowl without dropping it.

"That may be," Molly agreed, scrubbing away frosting from the kitchen table, "But Merlin knows I might _never_ hear the door above all the noise in this house. You really are better off walking in."

"It does not seem so loud at the moment." Severus observed.

"The kids were making a mess of everything I cleaned the moment I turned around." Molly elaborated, moving to the other side of the sink to wash. "I finally sent them off to play Quidditch."

Severus nodded along, wondering if the Weasley children knew just how lucky they were. Had it been _her_ making a mess of things the moment they were clean, a temporary banishment would have seemed like a treat compared to things her Tobias Snape would have done to her.

"You'll have to remind me to give you some cake before you leave." Molly requested, scrubbing ferociously at a measuring cup.

"I couldn't possibly take from your children's cake." Severus refuted, seeking an easy excuse to avoid overeating.

"What do you mean, Dearie?" Molly questioned with a frown.

"Shouldn't the birthday boy be given rights over any leftovers?" Severus asked, perplexed herself by Molly's confusion.

Molly laughed at her question and shook her head, wild curls flying about madly with the movement.

"We weren't celebrating a birthday, Severus." Molly corrected. "We were celebrating Tonks and Remus."

"Is it their anniversary already?" She wondered aloud, already knowing that it could not possibly be so.

"Goodness, no." Molly dismissed, passing her a wooden spoon. "They only got married a few months ago."

"What, then, are they celebrating?" Severus pressed, her curiosity outweighing her dislike for Lupin.

"Tonks is expecting!" Molly gushed. "And they just found out she's to have a boy!"

Despite having spent decades mastering herself, Severus somehow found herself dropping a whisk to the floor in shock. Alarmed at the uncharasteric behavior of her guest, Molly set down her dishrag on the counter and grabbed one of Severus's hands.

"Whatever is the matter?!" Molly cried.

Trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, Severus wiped her hands on her trouser before retrieving the fallen whisk.

"I am fine." Severus assured, tossing the utensil into the soapy water. "I just remembered I have places to be."

Molly looked doubtful as she wiped her sudsy hands on her yellow apron, but said nothing on the matter as she hurried to the fridge and pulled out the remaining third of a large, blue cake.

"Let me send some cake home with you." Molly insisted, fetching a knife from a drawer by the fridge.

Not wanting to make the woman suspicious by hurrying away, Severus agreed to the friendly offer and seated herself on a stool.

"I hope you like banana." Molly sang, setting a plate in front of her before turning back to pack up a few pieces in some tupperware. "I can scarcely tolerate it, personally, but Tonks requested it and who am _I_ to deny a pregnant woman something so simple?"

Wanting to leave the conversation before it could take a dangerous turn, Severus stabbed at the moist cake and shoved a very large piece into her mouth. To her horror, the colorful frosting was actually comprised of cream cheese dyed blue. Loath though she was to swallow the intolerable concoction, she saw no other choice before her. Not only would Molly's feelings be hurt if she were to spit out the food, the mother's suspicions would be raised. Thusly resigned, she drew upon all her willpower and forced the mound down her throat, making great efforts to keep her tongue as far away from the offending frosting as possible.

It was of no use, for her stomach churned the moment her nose caught whiff of the cake remaining on the plate. Bolting to her feet, the cushioned stool clattered to the floor with a loud bang, prompting Molly to jump several inches off her clean floorboards. Too near to vomiting to feel ashamed, Severus made for the back door in the feeble hopes that she could at least make it outside before spewing.

Alas, it was not to me. For Molly, thinking herself to be helping, quickly scooped up the garbage bin and held it out before Severus- unknowingly blocking the exit to her backyard. Unwilling to disgrace herself by puking in front of another person, she tried to thrust the bin aside only to have Mrs. Weasley hold firm.

"Not on the lawn, Dearie." She insisted gently. "I _just_ made the Twins reseed it."

Severus was about to curse Molly's lawn to the deepest pits of hell when her stomach contracted and sent a stream of particularly briney vomit shooting out her mouth. Keeling over as the acidic bile burned her nose, she sank to her knees and held unto the bin for near life as her body worked to expel half a jar of pickles and the majority of a container of chocolate frosting.

Without hesitation, the motherly Gryffindor gently seized up Severus's hair, taking great care not to pull or yank on any of the strands. Having in her life been exposed to what was surely _dozens_ of episodes of vomiting, Molly took the task of holding back hair in stride- reacting no more differently than if she were chopping potatoes for a roast. Unable to shrug the redhead away, and perhaps unwilling, she gave in to the nausea and willed herself not to cry.

After all, what did _she_ care if Tonks received an elaborate party for finding doing nothing more than finding out the gender of her baby? If Molly wanted to waste money on such an affair, well, it was of no concern to her. And what did _she_ care if Tonks and Lupin and the privilege of bragging openly about their pregnancy? Had the couple _not_ earned that right by waiting for marriage? And finally, what did _she_ care that everyone was excited for Hufflepuff and not for _her_? Severus could scarcely tolerate anybody in the Order anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

Molly frowned as she watched the prostrate girl hurl into her garbage bin, her empathy increasing all the more as the withdrawn Slytherin began to sob. Using a free hand to rub soothing circles unto the younger girl's boney back, she hummed gently and waited patiently for the vomiting spell to subside. When, at last, Severus ceased to spew anything but green spit, Molly gently pulled her off her knees and guided her into the half-bathroom directly beneath the staircase leading to the upper floor. While it was a cramped room, Severus was downright scrawny and the two of them would have little trouble fitting within.

"Here you are, Dearie." Molly crooned, filling a plastic cup with water from the tap. "Go ahead and rinse your mouth."

For a moment, Severus looked resentful of the compassion- clearly mistaking it for good natured pity. But when Molly gave her a reassuring smile, the look of contempt fled from her dark eyes and was promptly replaced with relief. Accepting the water with a trembling hand, the former Hogwarts professor took a large swig and swirled the liquid about in her mouth before spitting it back into the sink with a remarkable aim. Repeating the process until the water in the cup was all but depleted, the surly Potions Mistress sank slowly unto the closed toilet lid. Needlessly ashamed of her tears, the Slytherin sniffled quietly and tried to quell the onset of fresh tears by pressing the palms of her hands to her red-rimmed eyes.

"Talk to me." Molly hummed, stroking the girl's dark hair. "Tell me what has you so upset."

"There is nothing to speak of." The curmudgeon huffed. "I am not upset."

Molly could have laughed at such a feeble lie, but wisely opted against doing so. It would not do for her to antagonize the young woman and make her feel as if she was being mocked and dismissed. Such actions would only prompt the distraught spy to storm away in a huff. And Molly simply could not allow the woman to leave when she was so distressed and anguished, her conscious would simply not allow it.

Sensing Severus needed the Mother's Touch she was more than willing to give, Molly gently removed the used cup from the girl's still-trembling hand and disposed of it in the bin. Moving slowly, she then snatched up the Slytherin's pale hands in her own. And while Severus still refused to make eye contact, Molly was encouraged by the way the crying woman gave her fingers a tight squeeze.

"Come now." Molly cajoled, speaking softly. "Talk to me. Let me help you."

Severus gave a strangled sob in reply and swiped angrily at her eyes as the salty tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks.

"You could not possibly help me." The pale woman sniffled, the dismissal garbled by poorly subdued sobs. "I have ruined my life entirely."

While other Order members might have jumped to the conclusion that Severus had betrayed their organization at such a statement, Molly knew much better than that and vanquished the very thoughts from her head. For while the woman in question was _far_ from friendly, Molly knew she was an honest person and good at heart.

"It might seem that way at the moment, but I can assure you that you're life is not ruined. You are far too clever to allow such a thing to happen."

"I was foolish, Molly." Severus sniffled, hiding her face behind her hair. "And now I am suffering for it."

"You need not suffer alone." Molly assured, petting the flustered woman's hair.

"You don't want to listen to me whinge." Severus accused bitterly, using toilet tissue to dab at her dripping nose.

That a woman as formidable and stoic as Severus thought she was whiny for reacting to what was clearly a great amount of stress with tears was lamentable. Nobody, Molly thought, should have been raised in an environment where they would grow to so despise their feelings and view them as a weakness.

"I hardly think _you_ , of all people, a whinger." Molly frowned sadly. "And I dare say you don't cry _nearly_ as much as you need to."

Severus looked insulted at the suggestion she be less emotionless, but otherwise offered no counterpoint to refute such sound advice. Instead, she buried her very red face in her hands and cried afresh, the violent sobs raking her frail body for more than a quarter of an hour.

"If I confess upon you what I have done," Severus began, when at last she had regained her breath, "Do you promise me that it will not leave this room?"

"But of course." Molly enthused, giving the trembling woman's shoulders a tight squeeze.

Despite the promise she had easily extracted from Molly, Severus remained mute for a long while, her full lips opening and then closing in rapid succession. It was only as Molly began to fear that the spy would divulge no new information, that the Slytherin suddenly found her voice. And while it was small and feeble, and quite pitiable to boot, at least it was something.

"I am in a family way." She breathed, nearly inaudible despite the cramped confines.

For a moment, the only word Molly's alarmed mind could decipher was _family._ Befuddled, for she had once been told by Albus that the girl had _no_ real family left to her, she frantically searched the catacombs of her mind for a translation that would make sense and seem more reasonable. When at last the correct decipher breached her understanding, the result was overwhelming and nearly elicited a startled cry from Molly.

"Severus." For a moment, was all she could say.

 _Merlin_ , Molly thought, no _wonder_ the poor girl was so verklempt. For _any_ woman to find herself unexpectedly pregnant, the entire affair must surely be hellish. For Severus the ordeal could only be assumed to be threefold worse. Parentless, from what Molly had been informed, and playing both spy and brewer to the Order, the stress of an unintended pregnancy must surely be proving unbearable to the already overburdened woman.

"Merlin," Molly whispered in a panic, "Tell me you were not forced."

"No," Severus wailed, "That is what makes this all the worse. I have ruined myself!"

Much relieved to hear that the weeping woman could not add a vile attack to the list of that which grieved her, Molly set about the important task of soothing the upset woman and issuing some much-needed motherly advice.

"You are being absurd." Molly reprimanded mildly. "How can a pregnancy ruin a woman? Why, we were _meant_ for such a thing."

" _Married_ women were meant for such a thing." Severus sniffled, bottom lip quivering.

"Was the first Prime Minister, Geraldine Herlading, and less a woman for being four months along on her wedding day?" Molly questioned, smoothing the girls disheveled hair. "Was Dorcas Gray, the _mother_ of brewing? What of Irma Pierce, was her accomplishment of being the first woman auror diminished by pregnancy? Tell me, Severus. Were any of _those_ women 'ruined?'"

"No." Severus agreed, her voice shaky. "But they were all thought of as _whores_ , weren't they?"

"That was centuries ago." Molly frowned, displeased to have had her sage wisdom attacked. "Nowadays a woman has a little more freedom in planning her family."

"But-"

"Do you see _me_ as a ruined woman, Severus?" Molly queried, interrupting the younger woman before she could work herself up again.

For the first time since their conversation had begun, Severus looked up at Molly, her swollen face betraying puzzlement.

"Of course not."

Gently cupping Severus's hot face within her tiny hands, Molly smiled smugly.

"There was more than one reason behind Arthur and I getting married so young." She informed, freely sharing the information she had kept from all but her husband. "And there was more than one reason our midwife was so shocked that my premature delivery had resulted in a ten pound Bill."

As she made no efforts to conceal it, the shock registered very plainly on the Potion Mistresses face. More than a bit touched by the amount of respect such an expression conveyed, Molly planted a warm kiss atop one of the Slytherin's perfectly groomed brows.

"If I can survive such an experience, a woman as strong as you can, too." Molly declared, using the sleeve of her robe to dab the tears from her face.

"But you had Arthur." Severus reasoned, leaning into her touch. "What am _I_ to do?"

"Perhaps you ought to speak with the Father." Molly suggested. "He might just prove to be more of a help than you think."


	9. Chapter 9

Sirius sat upon the living room of Grimmauld place, a rusted screwdriver in one hand and a crumpled set of instructions written entirely in Swedish in the other. Picking out a word he could understand here, and making a few assumptions there, he wiped the sweat from his brow and began to attach an oaken slat to the wooden frame he'd just spent the last four hours assembling.

"Moony, are you absolutely certain that this crib didn't come with any English instructions?"

As confident as Sirius was with handiwork, which was quite a bit, the thought of him being responsible for any damage that might befall his future Godson worried him. What if the beams wound up being ill-supported and Moony Jr. crashed to the floor during a nap? What if the slats were not properly spaced, allowing the second-generation Marauder to get his head stuck and suffocate?

"There likely was." Remus frowned, fiddling about with the mangled results of his attempt at assembling a mobile. "But Tonks got to the box first, so who knows?"

Sirius need not press his friend for a more elaborate explanation. The very definition of 'distractible,' his young second-cousin's spaciness had only magnified in the last few months thanks to being afflicted with the condition Molly fondly referred to as 'pregnancy brain.' A stereotype the young Hufflepuff seemed more than able to provide proof for, having done everything from misplacing Remus's watch in the freezer to forgetting to where she'd placed a block of cheese. And while the former had been relatively harmless, and hilarious to boot, the latter proved a great annoyance when the cheese began to spoil and mold atop the cupboards the pregnant woman had inexplicably placed it.

Shaking his head at the foul memory of having to scrape spoiled cheese off the delicate wood, Sirius screwed a fat bolt into place before his using his wand to secure it with magic. He could, after all, take no chances with the welfare of his Godson.

"How's that mobile coming?" Sirius mocked, looking at the misshapen object in question.

Defeated, the exhausted werewolf brandished the mangled piece of decor and looked upon it with minor resentment. Resembling a spider comprised of limbs made of plastic, the badger plushies that were supposed to have been arranged in a geometric circle dangled off the incorrectly placed joints and looked more like victims of the gallows than they did comforting watchguards.

"It's...serviceable." Remus shrugged, wincing as a badger broke free and fell to the floor.

"As _what_?" Sirius teased, having nearly completed the crib in the time it had taken Remus to craft such an abject abomination.

"A weapon." Remus decided, tossing the mass of plastic at Sirius.

Dodging the delicately thrown object easily, Sirius stood and brushed the dust from the back of his trousers. Giving his handiwork one last shake with his right arm to test its sturdiness, and finding it resolute, he beamed proudly and looked pointedly at his friend.

"You'd have made one hell of a carpenter." Remus begrudged, rising to his feet as well.

"Stop it Moony, you're embarrassing me." Sirius declared, giggling theatrically.

The tolerant book-enthusiast shook his head but otherwise made no move to insist that his friend behave more maturely.

"Time for a break?" Remus suggested, snatching up a few bottled butterbeers from the coffee table.

"I do believe it is." Sirius agreed, happily accepting one of the cold brews.

In tandem, the both of them chugged the refreshing liquid in silence, their long friendship having rendered the need for words obsolete. With the movement of their faces alone they could communicate just as well, and with the exchanging of moving brows they were able to satisfactorily convey the mutual contentment they were both feeling.

As silences that golden were not wont to last, the peaceful atmosphere in the living room evaporated via Remus, who found he could not go a full two hours without asking the question he had already asked a thousand times.

"Padfoot, tell me honestly." The expectant father began, a frown overtaking his face. "Do you _truly_ not mind Tonks and I staying with you? It might be a long while before I find place that will rent to a werewolf."

While Tonks, and eventually Andromeda, had resentfully managed to forgive Remus for secretly eloping with their daughter after only six months of dating, the unpleasant fact still remained that Tonks's mother absolutely refused to house any man who would be so dismissive of even the most basic of traditions. Her own unscrupulous past aside, there was only so much dishonesty a mother could take.

"Don't be thick, Moony." Sirius scolded. "I'm _glad_ to have you both as guests. This place seems _far_ less lonely that way."

With Harry spending most of his summer mornings at the Burrow, along with quite a few evenings and nights, Grimmauld Place was far more quieter than Sirius would have liked. At least with the newly-married Lupin's there was conversation to be had and laughter to share.

"Besides," Sirius added, "I think I should quite like having a baby in the house. I never really did get to spend much time with Harry as a baby, after all."

"Neither of us did." Remus said darkly, looking sadly upon the crib.

Sirius's heart wretched at the recollection of Remus informing him that Hagrid had found the infant Harry wailing alone in his crib, crying out pitifully for the mother who could never again rise and comfort him.

"James and Lily would have been very happy for you and Tonks." Sirius comforted, placing a hand on the werewolf's perpetually warm back.

"I just wish they were here to tell me so for themselves." Remus sighed.

Sirius was about to assert that one day the Potter's _would_ be able to tell him for themselves, at a date hopefully very far in the future, when the sound of someone apparating into his kitchen interrupted him and pulled them both from their sorrows.

"Were you expecting anybody?" Moony questioned, glancing at the clock that showed it was only nine in the morning.

Sirius wasn't, but that hardly meant anything when one lived within Order Headquarters and had custody of a Godson almost entirely enmeshed with the Weasley Clan. What _was_ unusual, however, was the very early arrival time. Dumbledore, _himself,_ wasn't even in the habit of paying a call before noon.

"It's likely Mundungus." Sirius grumbled. "Come to try and beg some antiques off me."

Strolling into the kitchen with Remus at his side, Sirius mentally prepared a violent speech for the unpleasant beggar he was sure was currently muddying up his kitchen. He was just crafting up some pretty colorful threats, ones that involved decapitation, when he spotted Snape standing nervously by the kitchen table.

"Lupin," The Death Eater scowled, "What are you doing here?"

Snape's tone didn't sound as aggressive as it usually did. In fact, it almost sounded as if there was a bit of panic lacing the unwarranted question. But while Sirius was more than a little perturbed by that, he was more offended on behalf of his mate and chose to focus on that instead.

"Remus is a guest in my house." He informed the flustered woman. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Snape looked hostile at the reasonable question, but for once did not respond in anger or sarcasm. Much to his surprise the Slytherin, instead, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I would speak with you alone, Black." She declared, when at last she opened her eyes again.

"Anything you might say in front of me can be said in front of Remus." Sirius refuted, refusing to allow his friend to be insulted.

"Albus has sent me." Snape informed. "And I am to speak to you only."

Sirius startled at that information, fearing the worst. While he knew Harry was perfectly safe at the Burrow, thank Merlin for that, he couldn't help but fear Fudge had somehow found a way to reverse his exoneration. Just the merest suggestion of a thought that he might be returned to Azkaban made him feel faint. For while he had endured a full thirteen years within that hellish fortress, Sirius knew perfectly well he could not withstand even another week as a prisoner there. He would go mad for sure.

"I'll be in my bedroom." Remus informed, only reluctantly taking leave of the room.

Snape waited until well after the dismissed man's footfalls could be heard no more, then went one step further by using her wand to shut the wooden door leading into the living room.

"Tell me what has happened." Sirius insisted, sinking slowly into a chair.

Though she wore very loose clothing, Snape's trembling was terrible and undismissable- lending credence to Sirius's thoughts that whatever had happened was terrible indeed and, perhaps, tragic as well. It was with a nervous twisting of his stomach that Sirius steeled himself for the worst, his imaginings full of assumptions that somebody had been grievously injured or, worse yet, killed.

"I need to speak to you about our...dalliance." Snape drawled, her words so light they were nearly inaudible.

Unprepared to be reminded of said event, Sirius's eyes went unbidden to the brewing enthusiast's chest. Concealed beneath a heavy jumper the color of plums, as well as her black robes, the breasts he had remembered as insignificant pressed against their fabric prisons and made known their shape to any who might dare look. Crossing his legs as casually as possible, Sirius tore his gaze away from the alluring sight and feigned innocence- a matter not entirely easy as his frazzled brain would not allow him to vanquish the absurd question of whether or not his unexpected guest had padded her bra. An arse-aficionado aside, he was almost _positive_ the memories he had of her chest being flat were accurate.

"If you would like to have another...dalliance...we will have to do so at _your_ place." Sirius informed, already becoming aroused at the prospect of participating in such a secret and lurid affair.

Snape's face turned thunderous at the very suggestion and, had Sirius not ducked, his face would have surely been caved in by the heavy candelabra she hurled in his direction. Narrowly avoiding the silver projectile, he lurched to his feet and held up his hands in an effort to stave off any future attacks.

"I hardly think a repeat of the same theatrics is necessary." Sirius grumbled, quite on edge as he watched Snape remove her wand. "I am _already_ shamefully aroused."

"You are an arrogant pig!" Snape hissed, looking in great distance upon the evidence of his arousal. "That you think I paid you a call so that I might...so that...we..."

Snape's entire body flushed a violent red as she struggled in vain to make use of her expansive vocabulary, and Sirius soon began to fear he had brought about a stroke in the irate woman.

"Just _tell_ me why you have come." Sirius groused, feeling quite insulted at having had his offer so vehemently denied.

"Whatever do you _think_!?" Snape growled, her eyes dangerously watery even as she trembled with rage.

Taken off-guard by the question he had not expected, Sirius threw wide his arms in a display of his ignorance. Apart from wanting a repeat of the evening they had shared not too long ago, he really had no idea why the indignant woman should want to pay him a visit and discuss the liason. Unless, of course, Snape wished to make him feel guilty or ashamed. In which case she had come for naught, for he knew the occasion to have been consensual and the pleasure shared as well. Is only regret, perhaps, was having harbored the delusion that he might expect to have another such evening with the same woman.

"I am afraid I mistakenly imparted unto you some false information that evening." Snape managed, the color draining from her face with every word.

"You cannot tell me that you did not enjoy such an affair." Sirius insisted, quite stubbornly.

"Put your ego aside." Snape scolded, reaching into the pocket of her robe. "We have matters of much more import to discuss."

Concerned as to what the Slytherin might be feeling about for, Sirius rose to his feet in preparation of an attack. But rather than the poison power he had expected, it was an oddly-shaped rectangle of plastic the pale woman brought forth. Blinking, Sirius squinted at the object as he tried to discern what it might be, a dawning horror falling upon him as he began to expect it was a women's sanitary product. But, he frowned, why on earth would Snape of all people show him such a personal object.

Sensing his confusion, Snape very reluctantly surrendered the white rectangle into his hands. Blushing profusely, the Death Eater cast her eyes resolutely upon the ground, leaving Sirius to conduct his examination without an audience. Had he known just _what_ had been placed into his palm, Sirius might have vanished it from his very sight without nary a glance. But as it was, he stood ignorant of the matter as he quickly flipped the stick about for a different view.

"Merlin." Sirius exclaimed, feeling faint as he took in the plastic display revealing two very blue lines.

While he was by no means a purveyor of Muggle goods, Lily had introduced him to a great mess of things unrelated to magic. The most significant of which was, without a doubt, the contraption that first revealed to him that he was soon to be a Godfather.

For a moment, staring at the evidence of his fertility was all he found himself capable of. When at long last his disbelief diminished, a flood of excitement and trepidation overtook Sirius, necessitating the subsequent return to his seat.

"Will you not say something?" Snape demanded, sounded far more feeble than ever she had.

"I don't know what to say." Sirius admitted, awash with feelings he could neither label nor explain.

"Are you _not_ wroth?

Sirius blinked at the absurd question, and looked up to find the expectant mother looking dangerously faint. Concerned, he fought through the haze in his mind and hurried over to her side.

"I am not wroth." He assured her, shaking his head. "Why would I be _wroth,_ of all things?"

"I deceived us both when I said I was incapable of conceiving." Snape declared, still refusing to look away from the floorboards. "How can you _not_ be upset?"

While Sirius _had_ heard stories of women 'trapping' men into an ill-matched marraige via pregnancy, he knew in his heart Snape was not of such a character. Surly, mean, and unfriendly- yes, but desperate for a 'good' marriage, no. And had he any doubt of the merit of his judgement, Sirius had only to remind himself that the Slytherin could have made her pick from the myriad of unmarried men thronging her social circles. There would have been absolutely no need for her to select _him_ , a man she loathed entirely, for such a task. Furthermore, it could come as no surprise to even the most profound of idiots that a woman so ashamed of her nakedness knew next to nothing on the workings of conception.

"This was not the result of some treachery, Snape." Sirius asserted. "So it would hardly be appropriate for me to be angry."

"How you lie." Snape whispered, her voice thick. "How can you stand there and say you are not wroth with me? I have brought a great trouble upon us both."

"Not a trouble." Sirius corrected, still reeling from the news. "A _trial_."

"I fail to see the difference, Black." Snape growled, face still red.

"Well...this trial will have a _baby_ at its end, won't it?" He questioned.

Sirius could not help but grin as thoughts of a son who looked like Regulus flooded his mind, even though he knew the child would not be able to replace the brother he had lost so early on. But that was not to say he could not, at the very least, honor his fallen brother by naming his son after him.

"How can you stand their and smile?! Do you _not_ understand the ramifications facing us?"

For the first time during their conversation, Sirius took a good look at the woman he impregnated and found he did not much like the vision before him. Whereas Lily had been all aglow with radiance and excitement, Snape's skin was bone-white and far from dewey and bright. And whereas Lily had been wont to place her hands atop her stomach in a gesture of protection, or more often love, Snape stood stiffly and used her arms to conceal whatever growth was taking place in her belly. Snape was _scared_ , Sirius realized...and unlike Lily she had no James to support her and share this special moment with. He had to step up, he realized, and was very eager to do just _that_. But would Snape _let_ him?

"I see a _baby_ at the end of all this." Sirius rationalized. "Whatever happens in the meantime is just colateral."

" _No_!" Black she barked, her tone thunderous even while subdued. "What happens in the 'meantime,' is that I am labeled a whore and shunned. All while _you_ get to go about and act is if nothing has happened until the baby is born!"

Were she not in such a delicate state, Sirius would have railed against the unfair accusations just as vehemently as she had delivered them. But given than he was the one to have put her in such a compromising state, he kept his mouth shut, feeling equal measures of pity and protectiveness.

"You are mistaken if you think I plan to leave all the work to you." Sirius corrected, taking care to keep his tone even. "And you are downright absurd if you do not think I plan to share this good news with the world."

While Snape looked a bit relieved at the content of his first sentence, she looked downright panicked at the end of his speech.

"You cannot tell a soul about this!" She insisted, looking highly scandalized.

"You might at least let me tell Remus." Sirius bargained, eager to share yet another experience with said mate.

"No!" Snape growled, eyes flashing murderously.

"You cannot hope to keep this a secret forever." Sirius lectured. "You're bound to start showing sooner or later."

At the insinuation her belly would soon grow large, Snape pulled the folds of her robes ever closer and scowled.

"If Albus finds out, he will kill you."

Sirius startled at the blunt condemnation, but took it to heart as he knew Dumbledore to be quite fond of his little spy. But, he thought, if the subsequent murdering must occur it should be done as quickly as possible so that there might be no chance of being taken by surprise.

"He will find out eventually." Sirius reasoned.

"But not yet." Snape declared, sounding nowhere near as sure as she might have.

"When will you let me share the news?" Sirius interrogated. "I cannot hold out very long."

"I do not have a date in mind." Snape admitted evasively. "But we would not want to announce too early, would we? That would be stealing all the attention away from Lupin, wouldn't it?"


	10. Chapter 10

Albus Dumbledore hummed happily as he weaved his way through the horde of small circular tables furnishing Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop, carefully placing his feet so that he might not tread upon any of the overlong tablecloths spilling unto the floorboards. Smiling here at a cuddling couple, and waving there at a few former students who were anxiously awaiting the arrival of their dates, he searched the cramped shop for the woman he thought of as a daughter.

As might be expected, he found the sarcastic Slytherin tucked away in the back corner of the incense-filled shop, her pretty face sweaty but otherwise arranged in its usual passive frown. Pleased that his child had finally managed to find some time to spend with him, after having excused herself from their customary teatime for neigh on three weeks, Albus nearly tripped over an ill-placed rug as he hurried over to her. Quickly catching himself on another patron, he blushed apologetically and all but dived into the chair his spy had reserved for him.

"You do know how to make an entrance." Severus drawled, casting him a cheeky look.

"Well, I do have a reputation to uphold." Albus agreed, carefully rearranging his rose-pink robes.

"Lovely," Severus teased, "You match the decor."

Albus was prepared to assert that she should have taken care to do so as well, for a soft pink would surely look quite fetching against her pallid skin, when Madame Puddifoot arrived at his side and requested his order. Deducing from the large woman's panting that she had practically _ran_ to take _his_ order, he feigned having not decided upon an option so that the portly brunette could catch her breath.

"I would like a cup of Puer." Albus informed the shopkeep, when at long last her breathing returned to normal.

"No!" Severus growled, startling both he and the sweaty woman.

Albus gave his child a queer look, making his concern plain all without speaking. Usually demure in his company, and forever reserved, such a strong outburst was completely out of character. Had he not known of Madame Puddifoot's meek nature, she having been a former Hufflepuff prefect, Albus might have thought his daughter had discovered the tea-purveyor was poisoning all the Puer tea.

"You always have the same thing." Severus accused, quite hypocritically as she _always_ requested black coffee. "Try something different. _I_ have."

Albus looked suspiciously upon the young brewer who was trying too hard to play coy, her acting and occluding not at all as powerful and refined as they usually were.

"Very well," Albus played along, looking at the three empty cups littering the table, "What is that you have tried and found so delightful?"

"Peppermint Tea." She announced, happily sipping said beverage from a fourth cup.

"When in Rome." Albus prattled, finding the suggestion not entirely unpalatable.

As Madame Puddifoot shuffled away to procure the order, Albus worked his hardest to scrutinize his table-mate without being noticed. While he had noticed such a thing upon first sitting down, so excited was he for a visit with his child, he could not help but notice Severus's face looked a bit... _swollen_? Yes, swollen, that was it. Clearly the former professor had been resumed her nightly habit of consuming a generous amount of Sleeping Draught. Only mildly allergic to such a concoction, the puffy face was not at all an object of concern for him. What _did_ worry him, however, was the implication the renewal of such a habit carried. If his child was consuming large amounts of a potion that gave her any sort of discomfort, no matter how mild, there could be only one reason- which was that of her poor-sleeping patterns returning.

Waiting patiently for his tea to arrive, Albus tried to deduce the reasoning behind Severus's resumption of such a bad habit. Surely such a thing could no longer be attributed to the stress and hectic hours of minding a castle-full of hormonal teenagers, especially not when she no longer 'enjoyed' said responsibilities. With a frown, Albus was forced to consider the notion that her spying duties were proving much too taxing, even _with_ the absconscion of her teaching career. Such an explanation would, after all, be more than reasonable. To have to face Voldemort even once was an ordeal. To have to face the despot _monthly_ , as well as lie to his face, was almost unimaginable. He would have to confront on the matter, Albus decided, but _not_ immediately. One needed to approach delicate subjects with Severus slowly, like a Dragon Trainer his new charge. It would do to blunty suggest that he cut back her spying even more than he already had, he would only get burned for such an approach.

No. He would wait. He would play ignorant and bide his time, buttering up the young woman as he did so. If their teatime fared well, as he was sure it would, Albus would direct her to Flourish and Blotts on the pretext of her helping him find an obscure book. When the time came to check out, he would then add whichever book Severus had fawned after the longest to his purchase. Should their long history together fail him, that act alone should surely remind the recalcitrant girl of the great love he bore her. And once that labor of love was complete, he would compel upon her to take supper with him back at his office in Hogwarts, playing upon the abandonment card until at last she relented and accepted the invitation. When dessert was finished, and he would be sure the House Elf's knew to make her favorite, _then_ he would pry the confession from her. There was, he reasoned, truly no need for him to ruin this delightful tea with parental nagging. He would, for the moment, neglect such a duty- on the nobel merit that his daughter might very well _need_ a relaxing half-hour or so with her father.

"I thought you, 'loathed tea entirely.'" Albus quoted, accepting his own beverage from the woman who had been sluggishly slow to return.

"Oh," Madame Puddifoot gasped, looking horrified, "How could _anybody_ hate tea?"

"In the same way they disdain eavesdroppers." Severus suggested, quite pointedly.

Gasping indignantly, the rotund woman stomped away without nary at offer to refill Severus's nearly-empty cup. Annoyed at the poor-customer service, even though she herself had facilitated such inhospitable treatment. Clearly deciding to ration her tea, as it was not like to be refilled for a long while, the surly Slytherin turned her focus unto the large bowl of mousse sitting before her. Using her left hand to cut away a large portion of butter from the platter resting near the extra napkins, Albus watched in horror as Severus deposited the large mound of dairy into her dessert. Assuming the slighted girl was trying to make a mess, in order to punish the rightly offended shop-owner, Albus snaked a gentle hand out to try and stop the childish behavior. But before he could so much as remove the chocolate pudding from her reach, Severus, to his great disgust, took a large bite of the buttery dessert.

"That is quite the combination." Albus observed, struggling to keep his gag reflexes subdued.

"I read in Witch Weekly that butter is good for your hair." Severus explained, lying as feebly as first-year.

"I was not aware that you subscribed to such a periodical." Albus mentioned, blowing on his tea to cool it.

Severus startled, unused to being caught so easily in a fib. To her great credit, however, she recovered quickly.

"There was a copy open in the drawing room when I went to visit Draco." His former employee quickly mentioned, shrugging her shoulders much too casually.

"I see." Albus murmured, stroking his beard. "Tell me, did you happen to skim past an ad on Belinda's Beard Balm?"

"Yes." Severus agreed easily enough. "I found it quite boring."

"It was, perhaps, a little dry." Albus conceded. "But tell me, what did you think of the ingredients? I have been wanting to try this balm for quite some time, but I fear to try anything new whereas my beard is involved."

"I...did not really read the ingredients listed." Severus evaded, carefully weaving her answer.

"Little Lamb, you did not read the ad." Albus announced gently. "I know this because there _was_ no such ad."

Severus nearly dropped her spoon in alarm, her facing turning vibrant red as she tried, struggled, and failed to extract herself from the scenarios she had put herself in. Had such lies not been direct at he, himself, Albus might have even thought the flustered reaction comical as it came from someone so profusely stoic and reserved. But, as it was, his only child had meant to deceive him. And that uncomfortable realization wounded him almost more than he could bare. Why, he frowned, would Severus think it necessary to lie to him? As Severus uncharacteristically struggled for her words, Albus raked his mind for an answer that would relieve him of his hurt and diminish the concern he currently felt for his daughter.

Could it be that Severus had decided, at long last, to accept and bolster the affections of a suitor? Was _that_ she was suddenly concerned about the quality of her hair? It certainly stood to reason, after all, as lately the long locks had been decidedly _very_ glossy and devoid of oil. Only furthering that supposition was the the not-so-subtle change the brewing-enthusiast had evoked in her wardrobe. Not only eschewing her customary blacks for clothes with a bit more color, the young woman seemed to have also phased out her tightly-fitting garments for those of a looser variety.

Taking in the blush decorating Severus's cheeks, it suddenly all made sense to him. His daughter did, indeed, have a beau. Which was _precisely_ the reason she had demanded to have their tea time at Madam Puddifoot's. The potioneer, clearly, was afraid her father would not approve of him. By having the meeting take place in a relatively crowded venue, his crafty child had eliminated the danger of any overreactions or rows occuring.

Despite himself, Albus frowned as he tried to deduce who this mysterious young man might be. As it was surely not somebody reputable, else why would Severus labor so ardently to conceal his identity, the list was endless. There was Forsythe Avery- a handsome man who had shamelessly lusted after her since sixth year, Gervais Selwyn- an octogenarian who had already thrice proposed to her, and, finally, Leopold Lockheart. But surely Severus would have never selected the last of the list for courtship knowing, as she did, that Albus so ardently despised his existence. No, that could not be it. Albus _refused_ to even contemplate such an unsavory thought. Not only had Severus not found the artificially charismatic man unfavorable upon their first introduction, so too had he forbid the status-climbing man from ever flirting with his daughter again.

"There is no need for embarrassment." Albus asserted, snatching up one of her tiny hands in his own. "I shall not tease you _too_ much for having a boyfriend."

At once, Severus's angry blush vanished, leaving her skin an unattractive and unhealthy bleached appearance.

"You do not understand, Papa." Severus breathed, making use of the pet-name she usually only reserved for private settings or buttering-ups.

"You are a woman grown." Albus crooned. "It is no surprise to me that you've been dating."

"I have been doing no such thing!" Severus exploded, much louder than was appropriate in such a cozy setting.

Albus gave her a scolding look but issued forth no reprimand. It would no good, the rebuke would only fall on deaf ears when Severus was so obviously worked-up. He waited, instead, for the Slytherin to collect herself, sipping slowly on his tea as he did so. If he was silent long enough, his child would have no choice but to end the silence herself. It was a less than admirable tactic, he knew, but Merlin help him it _worked_ wonders on those as stubborn as Severus.

"I have not been entertaining any courtships." She began, staring resolutely upon the soft pink tablecloth. "But...there is a boy." The confession clearly shamed her, but the spy trudged on nonetheless. "And...we made a grievous mistake."

Albus gave her milk-white hand a warm squeeze, conveying as much soothing energy as he could.

"It is no great crime to kiss a boy, Severus. No matter _what_ your mother may have told you."

"There was more than kissing, Papa." She whispered, her voice thickening.

Now it was Albus's turn to blush, the thought of his child exploring her sexuality a very unwelcome intrusion to his mind.

"Severus, _Lamb_ , do be out with it. You're like to give me an aneurysm with all your silly evasions."

"I will." She assured, looking up at him with mournful eyes. "But first you must make some promises."

"I would gladly promise you the moon if it meant you would just make yourself clear." Albus smiled, trying to ease the rising tension.

Whatever news it was that his child had to share, he was rapidly beginning to fear that it was of the sort he did not want to hear.

"Before we begin, pass me your wand." Severus demanded, holding out a shaky hand.

"Oh, but this is ridiculous." Albus fussed, passing over the wand nonetheless.

Satisfied, but still a bit nervous, Severus tucked the wand into her purse for safekeeping. Suffering through such theatrics as patiently as he could bare, Albus nearly rolled his eyes as he watched his daughter then place the threadbare bag into a pocket she had sewn unto the interior of her robes.

"You must not yell when I make known my folly." Severus starting, beginning to list off her demands. "You must not seek _revenge_ when I make known my folly. You-"

"I am no young man, Severus." Albus reminded. "My days of childish duels are quite over."

Severus paused only long enough to glower at the interruption before prattling on, clearly reluctant to lose any of the courage she had just gathered.

"You must not cease speaking to me when I make known my folly." Severus finished, her frown deepening as she voiced what Albus assumed was her greatest fear.

"I would _never_ cease speaking with you lamb, _nor_ would I cease to love you." Albus comforted, cupping her face in his hands. "I do not have it within me."

"Do I have your promise?" She demanded, placing her hands atop his wrinkly pair.

"You do." Albus confirmed, pressing his forehead against her.

Severus sucked in a deep, quavering breath before closing her eyes and imparting upon Albus some of the most shocking news of his lifetime.

"I," She trembled, "Am expecting Black's child."

Refusing to believe such absurdities, Albus's brain frantically tried to procure a more acceptable sentence. When, at last, that failed, he reacted as any father might have to the news that his daughter had been knocked up. Tensing painfully, and eliciting a cry from Severus as he inadvertently crushed her fingers, he pushed away from the table forcefully enough to send his chair crashing to the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

Severus watched horrified as her father-figure clutched at his chest, his face purpling and his lips opening and parting in rapid succession. Fearing the worst, or at the very least a heart attack, she leaped to her feet and tried her best to calm the raging man. To her great surprise, and hurt, the trembling Gryffindor shied away from her touch. Wounded, she took a step back, powerless to intervene or look away.

"He...He...He.." Albus seethed, finally recovering enough to speak.

"Albus, _please_." She begged. "You are making a scene."

Severus blushed profusely as people began to stare, the majority of them making no real efforts to be discreet in their fascination. Fearing exposure, she tried once more to grab for her father's wrinkled hand, harboring the naive hope that her touch would return to him at least some measure of practicality.

"He did _not_." Albus babbled, still clutching his chest. " _No_."

"He _did_." Severus assured, ever aware of the many eyes watching them. "But let us discuss this in _your office_."

If the Headmaster took any notice, or regard, for the small throng watching the spectacle he was making of himself- he did not show it. Rather, he stood there and shook for all the world to see, taking no care to censure himself or display his emotions at a more socially acceptable level. Fearing his death, or else his immediate collapse, Severus began to contemplate using a binding spell on the elderly man. But even as she reached for her wand, she realized the folly in such a plan. For no matter how skilled she was with magic, Albus was infinitely more so. And not only would her spell be easily deflected, her Father's wroth would surely be increased by her having even entertained the notion of using arms against him.

"No." Albus said again, this time more desperately than forceful.

"Yes." Severus again correct, closing her eyes to hide her shame.

When at last she opened them again, Albus stood before with one arm raised in the air. Fearing a slap, Severus quickly backed away, nearly tripping over the booted foot of a man who had foolishly been rising to come to her aid. Catching herself on a drape, and nearly tearing it from the window, she righted herself as gracefully as she could manage and braced herself for the familiar impact of a man's hand against her face.

To her relief, and horror, she soon realized Albus not raised a to _strike_ her but rather to apparate away. Fearing for the life of her baby's father, Severus made to run from the stuffy building so that she could better apparate in the open space of Hogsmeade. But before she could move so much as a foot, Madame Puddifoot was there before her, blocking the path with her enormous girth.

"Ehm." She coughed pointedly, holding out a doughy palm and wriggling the fat sausages affixed to it.

Infuriated, but have no time to argue with a bullheaded shopkeeper, Severus snatched a hand into her purse and felt about for some coins near the bottom. When at last they brushed against the familiar objects, she pulled them free and slapped the two galleons into the obstinate Hufflepuff's hand before hurrying off without her change. Once outside, she drew free her wand and waited momentarily for her breathing to even out. It would not due, after all, for her to go and splinch herself when she had a man to save. Trying valiantly not to think of the stabbing pains in her abdomen that such an act seemed to give her lately, she quickly squeezed shut her eyes and willed herself into Grimmauld Place.

Landing without incident in the large kitchen, Severus ignored the pain in her stomach and followed the noise of commotion into the living room. To her great dismay, she entered just in time to see Albus breaking Black's nose with one well-placed punch. Gasping along with all the other inhabitants of the ancestral home, which were many, Severus used her want to deflect yet another blow even as Lupin and Arthur did the same.

Wincing only slightly as three separate versions of a Stinging Hex rendered his right arm limp and useless, Albus used his left to drag the young heir away off the couch he had collapsed into. Holding the young Gryffindor firmly by the cuff of his shirt, the irate Headmaster shook him vigorously until the fabric ripped and set his target sprawling to the floor. As the young Potter began to look dangerously near tears, Severus made her move.

Without any regard to own wellbeing, she dashed across the squeaking floorboards and jumped in front of the prostate Marauder, narrowly avoiding colliding with Lupin as he moved to do the same. Pushing the useless aside, Severus stood her ground even as Albus turned his fearful gaze upon her.

"You _promised_." Severus was quick to remind him. "You said you would not act upon any desires for revenge." She continued, when Albus still refused to be cowed. "This is not his fault only."

While the first two remarks seemed to go widely unheeded, the last of her arguments finally seemed to strike a nerve within the irate Mugwump. Lowering his deceptively strong arm, Albus even had the grace to blush as he took in the horrified expressions of those who had watched him strike a fellow member of The Order. But while he allowed his wroth to be stayed, with no small effort on his part, the Headmast refused to let his grievances die with it.

"I could kill you." He informed the bleeding Marauder. "I would _like_ to kill you."

Potter, Granger, and the young Weasley's all cowered at such a declaration, until, at last, the Weasley Matriarch was able to compel her twins to shepherd them away from such an unsavory and barbaric site. The uncharacteristically subdued pranksters were, for once, quick to comply and assert their authority as the eldest children in the room- one or the other even going so far as to toss Potter over his shoulder when said boy seemed unlikely to comply.

"You cannot kill him." Severus insisted, much braver than she felt. "This was the fault of us _both_."

"It cannot be." Albus persisted. "He-"

" _We."_ Severus corrected. "I played a willing part in this folly."

Albus's face drained of color at her proclamation, and all at once Severus realized the foolishness of her words back at Madame Puddifoot's. For despite having given to illusions to such a vile thing, her vagueness had clearly played a role in her father thinking that Black had compelled her, against her will, to lay with him. Ashamed that she had even been the harbinger of such an erroneous thought, Severus could not even turn her gaze until the bleeding animagi to apologize.

"How could you be so...careless, Severus?" Albus questioned, turning his focus unto her with sad eyes. "There is a _war_ going on for Merlin's sake."

"I know." Severus breathed, tears stinging at her eyes. "More than _anybody_ , I know there is a war."

Severus nearly crumbled before her father, having never been subjected to such heavy disappointment. Even when she had run to him in order to switch sides, the Headmaster had not been so wounded. Angry, yes, but not personally afflicted. She could scarcely bare such an experience. How could she? Apart from her childish fit of a few months ago, resulting in the subsequent firing of Lupin and her resignation, there had not ever been another incident in which she had been forced to deal with the ramifications of disappointing her father.

"Albus, leave the poor woman alone. She's been worried enough as it is." Molly intervened, resolute yet polite.

"You told Molly before you told me?" Albus wondered, highly wounded. "Who else knew?"

Severus did not have time to explain herself, to inform the saddened man that it was _only_ Mrs. Weasley who had been privy to the information, before he apparated away and left his only daughter to deal with the aftermath of his fury.

"Why would you tell him I forced you?" Black grumbled, swiping at his gushing nose with a silken handkerchief.

"I told him no such thing." Severus defended. "He made his _own_ assumptions."

"You couldn't have been a little clearer?" Lupin scoffed, using his wand to staunch his mate's bleeding.

"He stormed away before I could stop him." She asserted, trying hard to cry as she thought of her Father's face.

"You couldn't have sent a protonous to warn us?" Lupin questioned, more bewildered than upset.

"Leave her be!" Molly barked, gently grabbing her hand to lead her away. "Severus is _not_ to blame for the behaviors of anyone but herself."


	12. Chapter 12

Severus sat upon a splintery wooden swing in the only park the slums of Cokesworth had to offer, her arse being rubbed raw by the unsmoothed wood as she slowly propelled herself forward with her bare foot. Amidst all the chaos currently plaguing her life, and the dramatics she had only just fled in Grimmauld Place, the familiarity of the tiny park seemed to soothe her at least moderately enough to keep the panic at bay. This was one of the few places she had almost consistently been happy in, the spot where she had met her _first_ friend. The swing in which she now sat had been the selfsame swing she had ridden when she and Lily had exchanged their self-made friendship bracelets and vowed to be _best mates_ for life. The thorny oak with lovers names carved into the trunk, just beside the swingset, had been the very one Severus had climbed to retrieved Lily's favorite doll, the beautiful toy having been tossed into the uppermost branches by a very jealous Petunia. The rusted jungle gym, now overrun with moss and weeds, had been the very spot where Lily beat up Henry Mast for calling Severus ugly and making her cry. The remains of the sandbox, which were now meagre and a littlebox for the hordes of feral cats infesting Spinner's End, had been their gossiping headquarters, the very playground attraction where they had giggled about crushes, lamented about the tribulations of puberty, and poked fun at the antics of the Marauders. Despite the numerous whippings that had always seemed to await her at home for tarrying too long, the perpetually muddy park had never failed to make her safe. Not even when Lily had decided to break ties with her at the end of fifth year.

Pawing at the soupy mud beneath her feet with a naked toe, Severus couldn't help but wonder how Lily would've reacted to her news had she still been living. Broken friendship aside, Severus could not help but think the redheaded Gryffindor would have been at least a little happy for her- knowing, as she did, how ardently the young Severus had wanted to be a mother. Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, she blinked back heavy tears as the realization they would never reconcile renewed itself in her mind. She and Lily would _never_ be mates again, not in this life and perhaps not even in the other if she even managed to get to the same place. Neither would they ever raise their babies together as they had planned, Severus sniffled, pressing her fingers against her growing stomach. And there was no one else to blame for that but herself.

Swiping at her dripping eyes with shaky fingers, Severus pushed the intrusive thoughts from her mind quite forcefully, entirely unwilling and unable to reflect on them at such a moment. Already very close to despair, if not hysteria, such melancholic reflections would surely send her over the edge and into an involuntary commitment at St. Mungo's. She began to think, instead, upon the life growing inside her and how said child had already affected so many lives.

Aside from imparting a great deal of chaos and instability to her _own_ life, the baby quickening in her womb had inarguably affected Black in equal measure- if not more. Made a father without without any prior consent to such an event, the recent exoneree had exchanged the stress of prison with that of the endless worries impending parenthood seemed to bring. If such a thing were not burdensome enough, the beloved Gryffindor had only compounded his tribulations by siring his child upon a woman loathed by a great many number of people. And, in doing so, had diminished the bragging rights to his child. For who, of all people, would want to claim the offspring of a notorious Death Eater for their own? While Black seemed to be currently laboring under great delusions of happiness where regarded his impending child, Severus knew that joy would not last long. Relatively young, admittedly handsome, and wealthy to boot, the friendly aristocrat would surely want to take a wife for himself once the war was won. But what woman would want to bind herself to a man who shared partial custody of a child with someone who had blood on her hands? Black's joy would would surely turn to ruin when he was forced, by necessity, to forsake his presence in the child's life in favor of creating a better one for himself. While there might still be the periodic visits about the Holidays, and letters written to keep the man updated, those efforts would never really be sufficient enough for a man so noble and upstanding. It would absolutely break the Marauder's heart, of course it would. But Severus was sure the path she had outlined her mind was the one who he would take. As such, she couldn't help but pity him.

As for Albus, the poor and sensitive man had been selfishly forced into the role of a grandfather with nary a warning- having understandably assumed, as many did, his daughter to be as chaste and virginal as even the most faithful of nun. Now disabused of the notion that had, at one point, given him a small measure of comfort, the symbol for the light side of the war now had to contend with the worries and fears that supporting and protecting an expectant daughter brought. Not only would the aging Headmaster now have to calculate an unexpected pregnancy into his war plans, as well as reconsider the type and frequency of the assignments he gave his spy, so too would he be compelled upon to support her through the shunning and mockery the discovery of her secret was sure to bring. And what of his _own_ reputation? Both Ministry officials and commoners alike would _delight_ upon the discovery that a woman left in his charge had fallen pregnant with, what could only be assumed, was another Death Eaters child. Severus could only shiver as she sat and contemplated the vicious rumors that the Daily Prophet would be more than happy to concoct about her.

The only comfort from such thoughts came in the knowledge that Albus would soon forgive her this crime and seek a return to the former status of their relationship. If could absolve her of the sins of willingly joining the Dark Lord, as well as having a nearly innocent man fired, he could forgive her this. That he had been so grievously wounded by her deception was by no means a small matter but, at the very least, such a hurt could easily be healed. All she need do was go to him with a repentant heart and the truthful assertion that he truly had _not_ been the last to know of her condition. Once his wounded ego had been comforted at such welcome news, the Gryffindor was sure to forget his disappointments.

Resolved to have the ordeal taken care of before nightfall, Severus rose quickly from the swing and squatted to retrieve the boots she had placed a little off to the side. While such an undignified action placed quite a lot of pressure on her perpetually-full bladder, her snug trousers would not have allowed for her to bend in any other way. Not bothering to slip the pair of expensive boots unto feet that were coated with mud and dirt, Severus slithered through the darkening playground and into high-walled gazebo just a few feet away. Slipping into the concealable darkness of such a familiar structure, she couldn't help but press her fingers against the wooden walls so profaned with graffiti.

Severus had experienced her first kiss here, she recalled with a shudder. She had only been nine at the time, and Thomas Williams had lured her inside with the promise of sharing his crisps with her. A full seven years older than her at the time, the older boy had only allowed her to eat three of his crisps before he had grabbed her beneath the armpits and pressed her forcefully against one of the wooden beams. Shoving his slimy tongue into her mouth before she had even had time to scream, much less contemplate what was happening, the neighborhood's beloved choir boy had thrust a hand up her skirt and clawed at her maidenhood. Petrified, Severus had bit at his offensive tongue and tried to squirm free. But her efforts had been of no use, the older boy had done with her as he wanted, going so far as to thrust three full fingers inside her before being frightened off by the sounds of other children approaching. Severus had been able to tell Lily _anything_ at the time, she remembered, but she hadn't been able to tell her _that_. Such trauma had been for Albus's ears alone.

Wiping her besmirched fingers on her trousers, Severus exiled the thoughts and closed her eyes in preparation for apparition. It was a childish habit, she knew, but one she found much too powerful to subdue. Choosing not to dwell upon the embarrassment she felt at such an odd ritual, Severus relaxed her body as best she could and willed herself unto the grounds of Hogwarts. While using the private floo connection in her own home might have gone a little easier on her stomach, and surely her bladder, Severus had wanted to use the time spent walking to Albus's office to bolster her courage and to formulate an acceptable script.

Landing just outside the property line of Hogwarts, Severus pulled close her robes before hurrying unto the grounds. As desirous as she had been to use the long walk as a method for collecting her thoughts, the Scotland sky was blackening with the threat of a summer storm that looked perilously close to delivering hail. If push came to shove, and her courage failed her, Severus would simply idle through the corridors of Hogwarts until it returned.

"Severus!"

Jumping slightly at the sudden sound of Pomona approaching, Severus loosened her robes a bit and was suddenly grateful for the clouding sky.

"Pomona." She greeted evenly, blinking as a fat raindrop splashed against her forehead.

"How have you been?" The cheerful Hufflepuff babbled, quickening her steps to keep up with her former colleague. "I've not seen you since May."

Flipping up the hood of her cape as the rain began to fall more quickly, Severus cursed the inclement weather as well as the unexpected visitor. For while she had always been able to tolerate, if not enjoy, her conversations with the herbalist, _now_ was not the most prudent time for idle chatter.

"I am well, thank you." Severus drawled. "How are you?"

"Oh, I am just fine, thank you for asking." She prattled. "Though I _must_ say that we all miss you terribly. Professor Slughorn is certainly nice enough, don't get me wrong, but I dare say he's not quite as...industrious as you were."

Having had said for her own Head of House, the news hardly came as a surprise to Severus. If one was neither a box of candied pineapple, nor a member of a powerful family, it seemed the rotund man had neither time nor sympathy for you. When Severus had come to him in tears after the notorious pantsing incident in her fifth-year, all the man had done was shrug his shoulders and mutter uncomfortably that it would soon be summer and the teasing wouldn't matter any longer.

"Has Professor Slughorn been negligent in his brewing duties?" Severus questioned, already suspecting the answer. "If so, I would be more than willing to pick up us slack."

Having begun work as a freelance brewer to support herself and stave off the boredom, Severus will more than willing to take whatever jobs she could get. Her mastery of the art aside, it _was_ proving rather difficult to secure jobs with her reputation being what it was. As much as it displeased her, she supposed there was a certain karma at play via that phenomenon.

"Only if you wouldn't mind." Pomona insisted.

"I could think of nothing I would mind less." Severus assured. "What do you need?"

"Well, I really would like to have one of those jars of vitamin paste you made for my mandrakes last year. They aren't doing too well this year either, unfortunately."

"I can have it to you by tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you _so_ much. I really would hate to have my Mandrakes get sick so close to the start of term."

Severus nodded her agreements, and then listened along patiently as Pomona filled her in on all the impending changes coming to Hogwarts. Curfew would be extended another half hour for the sixth and seventh years, she lamented, not at all pleased at having to increase her chaperoning time. It was an understandable position to have, she thought, for if all those children were let loose in a huge castle without the majority of the prefects, who knew what mischief they could get up to? Professors could hardly be expected to be everywhere at once. Along the same vein, Hogsmeade visits would soon increase in frequency, too. But unlike with the other policy change, this was on addendum the herbalist rejoiced in- the prospect of having her greenhouses to herself for even more weekends a very welcome thought to her. It was only as they entered Hogwarts that Severus realized just how long the older woman had been left to talk, her endless chattering having proved very distracting.

"If you don't mind," Severus began, gesturing down a corridor, "I have to visit the Headmaster."

Instead of moving off in her own direction, Pomona followed after her.

"As am I." She smiled, brandishing a stack of papers at her. "I need to have him look over my lesson plans."

Knowing the friendly woman to be one hell of a talker, Severus sought to keep the woman from accompanying her on the trip to the Headmaster's office. She did not have the time, nor the inclination, to suffer through several diatribes and anecdotes just to speak with her father.

"Let me save you the walk and bring them to him myself."

"Oh, _thank you_!" Pomona grinned, thrusting them into her arms.

Well pleased, the bouncing Hufflepuff hurried off, moving (quite suspiciously) in the direction of Fillius's office rather than her own. Harboring no desires as to be informed what _that_ was about, and not too stupid where she couldn't figure it out if she wanted to, Severus moved on and soon found herself at the door to Albus's office.

"Chocolate Frogs." She sighed at the stony sentinel.

Leaping aside to allow her passage, Severus very slowly put her feet upon the first step. There was no going back now, and she would not prolong her suffering by simply standing still and reflecting on all that might go wrong. Feeding upon that false courage, she arrived at door at the top of the steps and raised her hand, steeling herself to knock and begin what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation.

" _Come in, Lamb."_

Albus called out to her before her hand had even brushed against the door, and Severus had no choice but to enter as the door swung open on its own accord. Expecting to see her father seated at his desk, in his scolding position that meant his hands would folded upon his desk, Severus was quite surprised to find him standing only a few feet away from the threshold, his arms held wide and his fave mournful.

Accepting the invitation for a hug without qualms, Severus flew into his strong arms and buried her face in his lavender robes. Despite all the promises to herself that she would not weep, she did just that as he pressed his lips against the top of her head.

"No, do not cry." Albus crooned, squeezing her shoulders. "It is _I_ who should weep. I have behaved most abhorrently."

Severus shook her head and frowned as his perfumed beard scratched at her face. Albus most certainly was _not_ at fault. And could never be. In her eyes, he was an infallible creature incapable of fault. That he had behaved as he did was only a testament to the great love he bore for her.

"I'm the one who is sorry." She cried, clinging to him tightly.

The Headmaster remained silent until her tears died now, working hard to facilitate such calmness by rubbing soothing circles into her tensed-up back.

"Let us not assign blame where it is not due." He lectured, planting a kiss upon her dampened cheek. "We shall never agree on such a topic."


	13. Chapter 13

Having seen his daughter seated in a well-cushioned chair, with a cup of freshly-brewed peppermint tea in her hands and a blanket tossed over her lap, Albus leaned back in his own chair and turned his attentions, as well as his affections, unto his only child. Having now made their peace with nothing more than a hug and a few words, he was very loathe to ruin such a comfortable atmosphere with questions that very well prove uncomfortable for them both. But, as it was, he was her father and he had a duty as such to see his daughter as comfortably situated as she could be. If that came at the expense of their newly-formulated truce, well, that would have to be a price he was willing to pay.

"Have you found steady work, yet?" Albus wondered aloud, setting aside the yellow socks he had been darning.

Severus looked down into her teacup, confirming his suspicions.

"It is not too late to return to your teaching position." Albus assured, harboring no qualms about casting the hedonist Slughorn aside.

As much as the Board of Governors might fuss, and the parents moan, Severus would certainly be a welcome addition back at Hogwarts. Not only did her Slytherin's miss her terribly, quite a few of the faculty had proven to feel her absence quite keenly.

"I do not _wish_ to return to that position." Severus asserted quite firmly. "I despised teaching."

"You must do _something_." He reasoned.

While he would be more than willing to support her himself, Severus had adamantly rebuffed all his efforts to do so.

"When flu-season comes I am sure to receive more work."

As flu-season did not hit its peak until January, it seemed his daughter would soon experience the next seven months in relative poverty.

"There is no need to reserve all your hopes for winter, Severus." Albus announced, stealing his daughter's focus from her tea. "For I have _just_ been made aware of a position perfect for you."

"I have already told you that I do not wish to work at the apothecary." She frowned, her dislike for the owner of the shop palpable.

"I was speaking of Hogwarts, Lamb." Albus corrected with a smile. "It seems we no longer have a professional brewer on hand."

If he could get away with creating a special position for Hagrid all those years ago, he would most certainly do the same for his _daughter_.

"But what of Professor Slughorn?"

"Horace has been negligent in his duties, my dear girl." He shrugged. "As such, he has only himself to blame for losing such a highly-paid position."

Severus blinked in confusion, but was quick to deduce his meaning.

"I trust you still have my resume on hand?" She questioned, her smile quite mischievous.

Opening a drawer, he removed the document he had been unable to dispose of and held it up for the pregnant Slytherin to see. While she rolled her eyes at such sentimental silliness, Albus could not help but think she was more than a little flattered by such.

"When may I start?"

"How about September?" Albus decided. "That way you'll have some time to get settled into your new apartments."

Severus startled at the suggestion, and Albus feared he might have set her employment date too far away in the future.

"I plan to stay at Spinner's End, Albus." She informed. "I don't want to raise my baby in a place with _Peeves_ running about."

It was a wise argument, but he couldn't help be a little saddened by such a decision. He would have very much liked for Severus and the new baby to all be within walking distance. If he was to be a grandfather, after all, he wanted to take every advantage such a position offered. Hiding his frown behind a well-timed sip of his own peppermint tea, Albus worked to soothe himself by assuming that Severus would at last, at the very least, fix up her dilapidated home with the perks a weighty salary increase would bring. If Merlin was kind, she might even let him help decorate.

"Very well." He acquiesced, refusing to partake in a losing battle. "But tell me this, how far along _are_ you?"

Truth be told, Severus looked anything _but_ pregnant. In fact, were in not for her sudden fixation on butter, Albus might have believed she had deceived herself. For while her face had grown a bit more fleshy in the last few weeks, which had fairly contributed to the butter, the crafty spy had taken great care to conceal her body with thick, loose robes.

"I am eight weeks along, almost nine."

Not even two months along, Albus mused. No wonder the only ones she had told were Molly and Black. It was simply far too early for to have been making grand announcements or, more correctly, for Black to having been making grand announcements. Why, the Potter's themselves had not even informed their closest mates until nearly sixteen weeks had elapsed. That someone as private and prim as Severus should want to keep the new hushed for a bit longer was only a natural, if not common, reaction.

"Is it too early to know what you're having?" Albus pressed, knowing the Muggles to have invented technology that could do just that.

"Much too early, Papa." Severus frowned.

"We must not be too disappointed." Albus inisted. "Half the fun is in guessing."

Severus perked up that, clearly having felt bereft at the lack of people to do just that with.

"Come, let us make a wager." Albus encouraged. "If you guess correctly, I shall place myself on diaper duty for a month. If _I_ guess correctly, however, you must give me unfettered access to my grandchild one day a month."

They were easy terms he listed, as Albus had only suggested the harmless bet in order to discover what gender his daughter wanted her baby to be.

"I agree to those terms." Severus allowed, sitting up a bit straighter. "And will let _you_ place your wager first."

Albus nodded along his agreements, and made a great show of analyzing her face and belly.

"A boy." He announced. "You are to have a boy."

As he had predicted, Severus's face clouded at such an idle and harmless prophecy. With displeasure and fear in her dark eyes, Albus watched as the skinny curmudgeon placed her hands atop the non-existent swell in her belly, acting as if her fingers alone could stave off such an unwelcome outcome.

"I think she will be a girl." Severus countered, her tone almost desperate. "Wouldn't it be marvellous to have a granddaughter?"

As she spoke of such a potential, Severus's dour face lit up as wonderfully as a sunrise, the small smile at the corner of her lips finally springing into maturity for the first since their conversation had begun. She wanted a girl, just as Albus knew she would.

"Most certainly." he readily agreed.

"It would be like having a doll." Severus blathered, hugging her stomach.

"If she looks anything like you, she'll be the most beautiful doll in existence." Albus flattered, trying to picture the child in his mind.

Severus blushed, but took in the compliment without complaint, so excited was she at the prospect of a daughter. Albus couldn't help but grin along with her, the notion of having a granddaughter proving quite exhilarating.

"I have an appointment on Thursday." His child smiled, desirous of changing the subject from the topic of her own looks. "You should come with me."


	14. Chapter 14

"Ugh," Tonks groaned, rubbing her painfully swollen ankles, "Dumbledore was supposed to be here half-an-hour ago."

"Moaning isn't going to get him here any faster." Fleur muttered, thankfully unheard.

Remus shot the French woman a dark look before taking his young wife's ankles into his lap and rubbing them, pointedly ignoring the scolding look from Mcgonagall who clearly believed such an intimate display had no place outside the bedroom.

"Dumbledore already sent a protonous to say he'd be a little late." Sirius reminded everyone, using his hand to shove Mundungus's dirty boots of his table.

"But what about Snape?" Tonks fussed. "We'll have to wait for _her_ , too."

"Snape is very likely _with_ him." Mcgonagall reasoned.

Sirius felt his heart race at such a thought, the prospect of seeing Snape again after the chaos Dumbledore had brought into his home an agonizing torture. Not only would her presence renew everybody's gossip about his fathering a child on her, so too would her presence give him considerable strife whereas Tonks was concerned. For it seemed no matter how many times he persisted he done no such thing, the immature woman was determined to find him guilty of purposely usurping her position as the Order's favored expectant parent.

"Don't be so nervous, Padfoot." Remus tried to soothe, catching his friends troubled expression. "Dumbledore can't possibly be that angry anymore."

Unbidden, Sirius's fingers went up to touch the nose the Headmaster had broken in his fury. Never before, he mused, had a blow affected him so profoundly. He only shuddered to think what else might have been done to him had Snape not intervened in time.

"Especially not if it turned out she wasn't pregnant, after all." Tonks contributed.

Having been caught sharing numerous theories with Harry as to why their much-loathed professor could not _possibly_ be pregnant, including observances of said spy's stomach and composure, Tonks had been most severely chastised by Molly only yesterday. Glowering at the petulant Hufflepuff, Sirius ardently wished the veteran mother would once more intervene and bring her to task. For while a little jealousy was an expected thing in a formerly-neglected teenager, the self-same petulance was entirely off-putting in a woman grown enough to be married and have children of her own.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Molly began, true to her character, "I will write to your mother!"

Suitably cowed by the threat, at least for the moment, Tonks turned her attentions back to her swollen ankles and directed Remus to apply his pressure to the heels rather than her toes.

"I can't imagine what is taking them so long." Tonks groused, displeased at the prospect of her _Weird Sisters_ tickets going to waste.

"They very likely had important Order business to discuss." Moody determined, using a chamois to polish his magical eye.

Sirius was about to voice his agreements to such when the distinct sound of apparition filled his house. Not wanting to appear too eager, or nervous for that matter, he feigned boredom and fiddled idly with the goblet of fire whiskey sitting before him. As intimidated as he was by the Headmaster, his pride would not allow him to show his fear.

"... _need_ to eat more _meat_ , the doctor has said so himself." Came Albus's voice.

"I am _trying_." Severus asserted, sounding exhausted.

To Sirius's demay, the bickering duo broke off their conversation as they came into the kitchen, leaving him in the dark as to how the rest of the aforementioned appointment had gone.

" _There_ you are." Molly grinned. "I was beginning to worry."

"I'm afraid we had important matters to discuss beforehand." Albus apologized, earning a derisive snort from Tonks.

Enormous brownies in both their hands, the late-arrivals had clearly made a visit to Honeydukes before attending to their more important duties at Order Headquarters. But while Dumbledore at least had the grace to blush apologetically, Snape glared darkly at the offensive Hufflepuff all while funneling a large bite of chocolate into her mouth.

"Cravings called." Dumbledore explained with a shrug, savoring a bite of his own brownie.

"Of course." Molly agreed, pouring out tea for the new arrivals.

As the mingling Order Members filed into their seats, Sirius dared sneak a peek at the expectant Snape. Only three months behind Tonks whereas their due dates were concerned, the shorter Slytherin's belly was nowhere _near_ the size her counterpart's had been at that time. And while he knew that a 'baby bump' couldn't really be expected so early on, the fact remained that the potions mistress should have at least gained a little weight by now to fill out her delicate frame. Had he not known any better, Sirius might have thought the little pocket of weight garnered in her belly could be contributed to something as simple as a food binge. As for her puffy face, well, that could just as well be attributed to something as benign as a sleepless night or vomiting spell.

"Just how far along are you?" Tonks asked, looking dubiously upon Snape as she exchanged a few pre-meeting snippets with McGonagall.

"I hardly think that is any of _your_ business." Snape growled, self-consciously pulling her robes closed.

Eight weeks, Sirius calculated, nearly nine if his math was correct. But, if so, why had she _just_ returned from an appointment? Lily had _never_ gone to one when _she_ was just nine weeks along. It simply didn't seem right to him, the timeframe much too awkward to be standard.

"It was a fair question." Tonk's needled, grunting a bit as she sat up. "You look far too skinny to be pregnant, after all."

At such a childish insinuation, Snape leaped back from her chair and looked ready to launch at the antagonizing Hufflepuff. But before she could do just that, Molly was upon her, wrapping her doughy hands about the spy's slender arm as she lead her away into the living room to calm down. Though he had not been invited to such an impromptu pow-wow, Sirius followed after, keen to apologize on behalf of his mate's friend as well as to have some of his own questions answered. Glowering after him, Dumbledore bid Kingsley to read off the minutes of the last meeting before he rose to stalk him after him.

He found Snape seated upon the softest sofa in the warm room, with Molly sitting on its arm as she wrapped a motherly arm about her young charges neck. To his great shock, he found her pallid tears to be damp even as she labored to prevent the fall of new ones via copious amounts of blinking.

"She is jealous. That is all." Molly soothed, giving the younger woman's shoulders a tight squeeze.

"I cannot imagine _why_." Snape sniffled. " _Everybody_ is happy for _her_."

"Most young women don't like to share attention." Molly explained, speaking to Snape as if she were a young girl.

Snape dabbed at her eyes with the fraying sleeve of her robes, her lips trembling as she worked to subdue her emotions.

"I could not possibly care any less for the attention my folly as has brought me. I do not _wish_ for such fussing, nor have I ever." Snape declared, her voice quite thick. "She can have it all, if that is what she wishes. She need only leave me out of it."

"I will speak with her." Molly promised, handing the much aggrieved woman a tissue.

Hurrying over to his upset spy, Dumbledore seated himself beside her and scooped up one of her delicate hands in his own. Welcoming the touch, Snape leaned into the older man's shoulder and buried her face in his yellow robes.

"You have forgotten that _I_ am most certainly excited for you." Dumbledore refreshed, stroking her dark locks.

"And me as well." Molly echoed, patting her shoulder.

It was an intimate moment, and Sirius knew he should not linger. But he had questions to ask, _ones_ that might not be answered in front of an audience. So, boots rooted to the floor, he stood their awkwardly until Snape was recovered enough to feel awkward at the fuss being paid her. Squirming away from their embraces with a blush, she stood quickly and startled to find him standing awkwardly near the doorway.

"I had a few questions." He explained, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Can they not wait for a better time?" Snape hissed, embarrassed to have been caught experiencing emotions. "We have a meeting to get to."

"Kingsley will take an hour to read the minutes." Sirius refuted.

"Our return with hasten his tongue." Snape returned, not at all keen to have any interaction with him.

"Just tell me about your appointment." Sirius pleaded, desperate to know how healthy his baby was.

"That is a rather personal question." Snape colored, turning painfully red.

"You let Dumbledore attend your appointment." Sirius scowled. "How personal could it have been?"

"I am her _father_." The Headmaster informed, looking quite affronted.

"And I am the baby's father!" Sirius reminded. "I had more of a right to be there than you did."

As much as he both respected and idolized the aging man, Sirius knew in his heart he would never be able to forgive the slight said old man had given him by usurping his proper place as Snape's primary support through this time. He was the child-to-be's _father_ for Merlin's sake.

To his surprise, it was _Snape_ who blushed while Dumbledore glowered.

"It was a routine appointment." She defended weakly.

"One I would have liked to attend." Sirius answered pointedly.

"How would I have known that?" Snape hissed, anger replacing her shame. "You never once told me you wanted to be involved."

"When?! _When_ , would I have had the chance to tell you that?!" Sirius rebutted. "You've been all but avoiding me these past few weeks."

As Dumbledore leaped to his feet, looking frighteningly prepared to intervene with the aid of his wand, Molly spoke up and placed herself between them.

"If you wanted to be involved it was _your_ duty to do so." The fiery woman scolded Sirius, waggling a fat finger. "It was not Severus's job to beg you to participate."

Turning thus to Dumbledore, Molly continued her tirade. "And _you_ , put that wand away. Severus is quite capable of defending herself if she feels threatened."

She turned to Snape with a much gentler expression on her face. "When is your next appointment, Dearie?"

"In a couple of weeks." Severus declared.

"You will let Sirius go with you, won't you?" Molly asked, her question quite leading.

"If that is what Black wants," Snape drawled, "He may come."


	15. Chapter 15

Sirius couldn't help but wince as Dumbledore piloted Snape's rusting truck unto the freeway, the Headmaster having bypassed three others lanes without using the blinker to alert the other motorists. Rather than take the angry honking to heart and correct his abysmal driving, the older Gryffindor simply turned on the radio and filled the cramped space with the delightful sounds of Michael Jackson. Relieved to at least have some music to take his mind off the impending vehicular death awaiting him, Sirius leaned back into the musty carseat and stretched his feet as best he could.

"Albus!" Snape squeaked, her face paling. "Slow down!"

As the face of Hogwarts made to comply, Snape curled over the plastic beach pail in her lap and let loose a stream of pungent vomit to join the other three inches already befouling the purple toy. Seeing as the mugwump already had both of his hands occupied, Sirius took it upon himself to hold her hair back for the third time that morning. To exhausted and miserable to even swipe at the offending hands anymore, the retching Slytherin accepted the aid with might have been an appreciative moan.

"Turn the air conditioner on." Sirius ordered, taking notice of the sweat that coated the dark strands of her hair.

"-Doesn't work." Snape gurgled, beginning to dry heave.

At a loss of what to do, Sirius kept hold of her wavy locks with one hand and used the other to fan her swampy brow with an old map he had found in the glovebox. Casting him an appreciative look, but otherwise unable to communicate her thanks, Snape resumed the foul task of emptying the contents of her stomach with a newfound blush staining her cheeks.

"Pull over." Snape ordered the Headmaster, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.

As Dumbledore made to stop, literally within traffic, Sirius seized the wheel and put his own foot on the gas pedal.

"Not in the middle of the road!" Snape screeched, her face blanched white.

"Sorry dear." Albus apologized, commandeering control of the vehicle once more. "Where would you rather I stop?"

Having been bored out of his mind since the beginning of their car ride, Sirius had taken to reading the numerous billboards to stave off his restlessness. Thankfully, for all of them, those idle observations had not proved useless.

"There is a truckstop a few minutes away." Sirius informed. "Take this exit."

"Use your blinker!" Snape contributed.

Using the _wrong_ blinker, Sirius clung to his armrest as the Headmaster cut across traffic to make use of the exit suggested to him. Mistaking Snape's terror for nausea, perhaps almost intentionally, the aging Gryffindor decided to radically slow down- rendering their fender target practice to the line of cars behind them. Having gone selectively the death, the Headmaster then proceeded to pilot them along the lonely road at a middling pace well below the speed limit.

Snape faired just as well during the detour as Sirius had expected. Pretty yellow jumper now splashed with her own vomit, and her black skirt as well, the sweaty Slytherin scowled as she struggled to remove the wand she'd tucked into her overfilled purse. Wishing to aid her in any way he good, no matter how small, Sirius used his own magic to vanquish the mess. Nodding her appreciation, the expectant mother leaned into the seats and crossed her legs.

"Would you hurry?" She pressed Albus, squeezing her eyes shut.

"But did you not _just_ tell me to slow down?" The bewildered Headmaster questioned, looking quite at a loss as to why his driving was being so critiqued.

Resolving to usurp the position of chauffeur just as soon as he could, for _all_ their sakes, Sirius leaned his head out the passenger window to better read a flimsy little sign staked into the grass.

"Turn left." Sirius commanded, jerking a thumb in that direction.

The Headmaster gave an uncharacteristic scowl, but obeyed the order, his barely-concealed contempt for Sirius all but palpable. Having refused to beg pardon for whichever unknown offense he had delivered the petulant Gryffindor, the Headmaster seemed more determined than ever to punish him with chilly silence.

Thankfully he was not left very long to stew in such an uncomfortable atmosphere. For after only ten minutes of cruising along the dust-provoking gravel, an oddly shaped restshop popped into view. Looking almost as if three separate buildings had been made to join together, despite their incompatibility, the mess of a building was a garish green monstrosity. He was trying to decipher the name of the place, the words scrawled in weather worn paint across the warped door, when Snape pushed his shoulder impatiently.

"Move, Black." She hissed. "I have to pee."

He scrambled out of the truck just as quickly as he could, only to find himself shoved aside as Snape dashed toward the ugly building. Letting the slight slide, as he was quite sympathetic to her plight, Sirius followed after her at a much more leisurely pursuit. Having not had breakfast that morning due to time constraints, he thought perhaps a bag of crisps would silence the rumbling in his stomach. And, he mused, it would not hurt to visit the bathroom himself for the journey was already proving quite long.

To his great irritation, Dumbledore chose to follow after him but did not walk beside him. Quickly getting a point where he found such behavior intolerable, Sirius stalked into the store and hoped to lose the sullen Headmaster amongst the aisles. Dumbledore, thankfully, did the same and took off to survey an eclectic display of hand knitted scarves. As for himself, he set off in pursuit of some refreshments. Finding the snack aisle, as well as a basket, he meandered lazily along the shelving and selected things both purposely and at random. Four different kind of crisps, a dozen pops, and a selection of candy bars all found themselves in his collection, some lifelong favorites and others entirely new to him.

"There you are."

Snape, per usual, somehow managed to sneak up on him without even a single footfall from her sandals being heard. Looking much refreshed, and also relieved, the young woman had finally taken the Headmaster's advice and tied her hair back with a black ribbon he had provided from his pocket. While it was a subtle change, the effects on her countenance were quite satisfactory. It was nice, he thought, to see her eyes dead on instead of partially concealed by wisps of hair. Catching his odd look, Snape frowned and avoided his gaze by looking into his basket. With a look of disgust, she drew down her hand and plucked out a brightly colored package decorated it completely foreign symbols.

"This says it is, 'salty tomato' candy." She transcribed easily.

Grimacing, Black reclaimed the bag and returned it to its spot of the shelving. As adventurous as he was with food, which was quite, the one thing he could scarcely tolerate was too much saltiness.

"You can read Chinese?" He asked her.

"This is written in Japanese, Black." She corrected, "But yes, I can read a little Chinese."

"You must be bloody brilliant then." He applauded. "I'm lucky if I can remember my French."

"Perhaps Fleur could refresh your memory." Snape suggested.

"I'd rather have Tonks teach me how to dance."

Snape actually giggled at his remark, and Sirius was taken aback at how light and pleasing such a noise proved to be.

"What," He asked innocently, "You don't think Tonks could teach me to waltz?"

Snape's eyes twinkled at the thought but, to his disappointment, she did not laugh again. Absurdly, she seemed almost embarrassed at having let down her guard so spontaneously.

"She might teach you to appreciate steel-toed boots." She smirked, not entirely retreating into herself.

Sirius was about to tease, or rather flirt, that perhaps _she_ might need be the one to give him a refresher course when Albus pushed his way into the moment with his arms full of brightly colored scarves. When he saw the smile still plastered on Snape's face, the Headmaster frowned rather approvingly.

"Look what I have found, Little Lamb." Albus announced, pushing his way between them with little subtly.

"Oh," Snape replied, grabbing a purple scarf, "This will go quite nicely with your new robes."

"That was just what I was thinking." The Headmaster agreed, trying it on for size as he ushered them to the checkout.

Quickly paying for all the wares, as the store really was quite empty, they all filed out into the summer sun in relative silence- Albus pausing only occasionally to try and force a bright pink scarf upon the rapidly unamused Snape.

"While you two squabble over fashion," Sirius interrupted, "I will be more than happy to drive."

Looking highly offended at the offer, Dumbledore turned to Snape in the expectation she would come to his defense. But, just as Sirius had expected she might, the road-weary Slytherin frowned sheepishly and removed the keys from his wrinkled hands.

"Let Black drive." She insisted, passing said man the keys. "This way I can rest my head against your shoulder."

Pacified by the answer, Dumbledore held the door open for the younger woman and climbed in after her. Finding his way into the driver's seat, Sirius made a few adjustments to the mirrors before pulling his crisps from one of the many bags he had purchased. Opening it wide, he stole a few bites before offering some to the expectant woman smooshed in the middle.

For reasons unknown to him, Snape looked almost beside herself as she accepted one.


	16. Chapter 16

"Well, Mrs. Prince, we have your blood work back."

Doctor Forrester was, as always, emotionless in both his mannerisms and speech. And while Severus had grown used to such impersonal behavior, the two men accompanying had not had such an opportunity. Had the irreverent doctor even bothered to look up from his much-beloved clipboard, he might have actually been given cause to reflect on his poor bedside manners as both men were scowling quite sharply at the tall man. Severus frowned, too, but hers was a far more sullen expression rather than hostile.

"Your iron levels are still quite low." The Doctor pronounced, his tone more accusatory than it had any right to be.

Uncowed by the inappropriate scolding, Severus sat up straighter in her chair. She was a grown woman, after all, and the strange man looming over her had no right at all to try and make her feel feeble and unsure of herself. She was _spy_ , she reminded herself, and this ineffectual doctor was all but nothing compared to the Dark Lord.

"I have already told you," Severus hissed at the bland man, "That the smell of meat makes me ill."

In truth, mostly _everything_ seemed to want to make her stomach churn. Barring pickles and chocolate frosting, and the occasional brownie, nothing seemed palatable to her anymore much less edible. But, not wanting to be accused of exaggeration once again, Severus kept those anecdotes to herself.

"Mrs. Prince," The Doctor lectured with a sigh, "Your body is experiencing an influx of horm-"

"I _know_ what my body is experiencing." Severus assured, struggling to keep the venom from her words.

Completely ignoring her, the bespectacled man turned to Black with an expression of unamused exhaustion lining his wrinkled face.

"Mr. Prince," He intoned, "The first trimester of a pregnancy can be a very taxing experience for a first-time mother. Have you tried limiting her social outings? That might just work to temper her nerves about the baby."

Severus felt her face flush red with rage as thoughts of castrating the chauvinist filled her head. For _two months_ she had been trying to convince the dismissive man that she was chronically ill and not just, as he assumed, in pursuit of attention. For him to go and dismiss her tenacity as being nothing more than 'nerves' was simply acceptable, and Severus vowed to not let such a slight go unreproved.

"My daughter is as tough as a bear, Doctor," Albus intervened, "If she says something is wrong, than by all means, there _is_ something wrong."

As Albus had brought along bedazzled cane for purposes of aesthetics, as well as concealing his wand, Doctor Forrester saw him as nothing than an inconsequential old man.

"Fathers will believe anything their daughters tell them."

Albus leapt to his feet at the none-too-subtle insinuation that his child was a liar, his blue eyes flashing dangerously as he wagged a graceful finger in the doctor's face.

" _Daddy, no."_ Severus intervened, pulling the irritated man back into his chair.

Still fuming, Albus glowered at the ignorant as he returned to his seat, his wrath still very much evidenced by the shaking of his hands and the redness of his face. Having thus tempered her father's temper with only a word, she was taken quite aback when Black spoke up to vouch for her.

"When the mother of my godchild was expecting, the doctors gave her medication for nausea." The aristocrat lectured, refusing to be deterred by the doctor's bored expression. "Why can you not do the same for my...wife?"

Not as skilled as she at acts of subterfuge, Black stumbled on the last word but otherwise appeared rather convincing as a concerned husband and father-to-be. Had they not had such a hard headed audience, Severus might have applauded him for such efforts. It could be easy, after all, to play husband to a woman one regarded as a bat.

"Mr. Prince," The Doctor reasoned, " _Surely_ you can see that there is no need for such a thing."

Clearly just as sexist as she had originally pegged him out to be, the doctor evidently had no major qualms in discussing _her_ body so long as it was with another man. And as much as Severus would have loved to advocate for _herself_ , she kept silent and let the menfolk converse uninterrupted in the hopes that such a conversation would at least bare useful fruits.

"All I can _see_ ," Black intoned, "Is the _need_ for getting my wife a better doctor."

The impersonal physicians face clouded at the thought of losing a client who paid cash and, all at once, he appeared apologetic and put on a great show of making known his conversion to belief in his patient.

"I'll send you home with some doxylamine." The reformed man promised, patting Severus awkwardly on the head. "But do be warned, it might make you a bit drowsy."

"I don't care if they turn me _purple_ , so long as they work." Severus declared.

"Yes, yes." The Doctor agreed, suddenly amiable.

"When can I pick up the prescription?" Severus asked, uncomfortable with the way the doctor was petting her like a cat.

"It should be ready just as soon as your appointment is over."

"We've been here for half an hour." Severus announced, glancing at Black's watch. "Are we _not_ done here?"

The doctor looked like a deer caught in the headlights at her innocent question, and Severus felt her blood turn to ice. There was a great reluctance in the physician's light eyes, she noticed, and that expression alone was enough to make her nervous.

"I just thought an ultrasound might be in order." The the tall man explained.

"Isn't it too early for such a thing?" Severus panicked, clutching for her father's hand.

Albus found her hand before she could find his and squeezed it tightly, clearly not understanding her panic but knowing her well enough to know she needed comfort. Black, to his credit, seized her other in both his hands.

"There is no cause for panic. I only want to see if the baby is growing as it should."

"Do you think there is a reason she _wouldn't_ be?" Severus demanded, pulling her hands free so that she might clutch at her belly.

Unbidden, thoughts of Bellatrix Lestrange's stillborn son flooded into her head, the little blue body a horrific reminder of all the things that could go wrong in pregnancy. And even though the foul witch _had_ copulated with a man without full possession of a soul, Severus could not help but fear for child as result of such an event. If not even the _Dark Lord_ himself could stave off such a trauma for a woman he much-respected, what could _she_ of all people do?

"Well," The Doctor began, looking fearfully at Black, "With your weight being what it is...I thought it might be wise just to see how your baby is growing."

Dr. Forrester didn't give her anymore time for questions as he stood and pointedly opened the door for them.

"Dr. Clever will conducting the ultrasound." He announced. "Follow the signs down the hall."

Severus moved like a woman going to face the Dementors, her steps so slow she made Albus seem speedy. Sensing her unsteadiness, Black had long ago given her his arm for support, his own face a stony mask. When she turned to her father and same the same careful look, it was all she could do not to cry. _Her baby was dead_ , she thought, _That's why she was so sick. That's why she hadn't gained any significant weight._

"Our baby will be fine." Black promised, leading her into a room at the end of a hall.

As it turned out, Dr. Clever was a woman. Which was quite the welcome scenario when Severus found out she would have to lift her shirt and expose her naked abdomen for the world to see.

"This will be a bit cold." The older woman warned her.

Though she had already been prepared for such, Severus couldn't help but gasp as the gel was applied to her belly. As the doctor frowned apologetically, Snape held her breath and looked to make sure neither Black nor Albus were looking at her exposed flesh. They could look at the screen all they wanted, but Merlin help them, if they even _looked_ at her nakedness she would lose her mind.

"Here we go." Doctor Clever croaked, pressing the wand against her skin.

Severus opened her eyes to see a mass of grey overtaking the screen situated at her side and squinted to better decipher whatever was taking place in her womb.

"Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" She demanded.

"Is it growing?" Black interrogated, peering at the screen himself.

Rather than simply answer their questions, the hounded ultrasound technician held up one slim finger and guided the wand about a few more times before answering.

"Your baby is just fine."


	17. Chapter 17

"We're getting you a better doctor." Sirius announced, pulling the dilapidated truck away from the clinic.

To his great surprise, as well as his relief, the stubborn Slytherin did not argue with him on such a personal matter. She remained passive instead, taking full advantage of his earlier generosity by pilfering his salt-and-vinegar crisps. Catching his amused expression, Snape frowned, holding hostage from her mouth a particularly fragrant chip.

"You don't mind, do you?" She queried, clutching the bag protectively.

"They're all yours." Sirius graciously allowed, cracking open a window. "They make me gassy anyways."

Grimacing at his 'vulgarities,' the smell-sensitive woman backed away from him and pressed against her father.

"You're disgusting." She accused, almost playful as she fanned the air back at him with an old map.

"Trust me," Sirius warned with a cheeky smile, "If I had actually done something, you would _know_."

While it might not be a _noble_ talent, pre se, it was certainly one that required much skill and dedication. As such, Sirius felt righteously proud of his brag, and not at all as ashamed as Snape would have liked him to be. After all, his gas had (on multiple occasions) been declared worse than the stench of a Dung Bomb- both by fellow students alike, as well as by stuffy prefects _and_ unamused professors.

"Are you threatening me with chemical warfare?" Snape questioned, looking highly scandalized.

"I am doing nothing of the sort." Sirius defended. "What I gave you was a chivalrous warning."

Severus scrunched up her nose in a manner Sirius couldn't help but find endearing, her cheeks coloring a beautiful pink as she looked steadily away from his gaze.

"I do not believe _anything_ pertaining to such a subject could be chivalrous."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind the action.

"How can speaking of something so natural make you blush so hard?"

"Some acts of nature are unspeakable." The potions mistress huffed, turning all the redder.

Sirius couldn't help but snort as Snape referred to the act of farting as something akin to the Dark Arts. How, he mused, could a woman in this day and age be so damn priggish? Not even Narcissa, the prissiest of his cousins, could compete with the younger Slytherin's level of formality and victorian tendencies.

"Everybody farts." Sirius lectured. "Don't they Albus?"

"Certainly. _Especially_ when they get to be my age." The Headmaster agreed more than readily. "Though I _do_ try and constrain myself to conceal such a fact for the benefit of those around me."

Sirius had not thought it possible, but Snape's face colored all the more, taking on an embarrassed shade of red much brighter than any he had ever seen.

" _You_ have farted before as well." Sirius declared.

"I have _never_." The spy fibbed, looking ready to eject herself from the moving vehicle.

Rather than call her bluff with appeals to the science of human biology, Sirius hefted up his left leg and raised a brow at the subject of his harmless teasing.

"Let me show you how, then."

Thus said, he filled the car with a foul trumpet loud enough to overpower the music flickering from the radio. Crying out with revulsion, the skinny woman seated beside him quickly drew her skinny fingers to her nose to stave off the foul stench the crisps had filled him with. Kicking at him, she used her free hand to shoo away the fumes from the mouth she had opened to breath, looking murderous as her Father scrambled to roll down his window completely.

"You're lucky I am no longer feeling so nauseous." Snape hissed, when at long last it was safe enough to speak. "I would have _gladly_ vomited all over you."

" _I_ still might." Dumbledore interjected, leaning his head out the window.

Well pleased with himself, Sirius piloted the rumbling truck down a sidestreet of the small town they had just entered on their way back to Cokesworth.

"What are you doing, Black?" Snape demanded, suspicion creeping into her dark eyes.

"I thought we could all use some fresh air." He explained, gesturing at the numerous purple signs flooding the cities poles and shops.

Gaudy, but serviceable, the colored posters did there job as they directed passerbys into the heart of the immaculately clean city. Travelling along at a middling pace, Sirius watched from the corner of his eyes as Snape sat up straight and peered over the dashboard to take in the sights surrounding her. Lampposts strung with balloons of every color imaginable, and wreaths of flowers hanging from almost every door available, the sight really was a welcome one for any who might stumble across it.

"I smell lavender." Snape told her father, a small playing at the corner of her lips. "And wisteria, as well."

She looked almost dreamy as she took a big whiff, and Sirius avowed to himself to find the prettiest bouquet for the mother of his child. They were soon going to be share a child, after all, and prudence dictated he lessen the amount of hatred and resentment the pregnant Slytherin currently felt for him. If he was going to be sharing custody, on which he planned, Sirius wanted to share it with a woman who _wouldn't_ use her status as the mother to keep his visits limited.


	18. Chapter 18

Sirius walked protectively beside Severus through the crowded town square, fully prepared to stave off any careless elbows to the Slytherin's swelling belly as he took in the numerous unchecked children running about like miniature mad men. Tansy Parkinson had gotten hit with a quaffle once, he recalled, at an innocent little amature game of Quidditch hosted by her bachelor of an elder brother. Completely out of bounds, the enormous red ball had slammed into her unprotected belly with great force, its velocity so powerful that those surrounding her had not even had a chance to stop. Sirius's skin all but crawled as he recalled the loud slapping noise the ball had made, the sickly noise perfectly distinct even as the expectant mother's screams had threatened to drown it out. There had been no more Quidditch games on Parkinson property since then, he scowled, nor had there been anymore babies for the afflicted young mother. Judging by the way she placed her pallid fingers atop the meagre growth of her stomach, Severus clearly felt the same anxiety he did.

"Oh, Severus- look!" Albus called out merrily, effectively pulling his mind away from such gruesome and unwelcoming thoughts.

Following the direction of the Headmaster's ink-stained finger, SIrius directed his eyes towards the place where a group of elderly women had set up shop to sell off their handcrafted goods; knitted socks and hats evidently being the largest portion of their wares. Stifling a bereaved sight as he imagined all the gaudy apparel the older Gryffindor would buy, and then subsequently model for anybody who would look, Sirius reluctantly trailed after Albus in the feeble hopes that Severus could, at the very least, limit his spending. Already littered with the numerous bags from their pitstop to the truckstop, the floor of the small truck was in danger of becoming entirely unavigatable.

"Just look at this, Lamb." The Headmaster enthused, holding up an impossibly tiny jumper the color of rose petals.

As the crowd of old crones dissected the meaning behind those words, they all turned in unison to stare at Severus's unpronounced bump. Blushing powerfully, the shy woman tried, in vain, to conceal her abdomen with her fingers. Wishing to assist the beleaguered woman, Sirius slowly stepped halfway in front of her.

"She's having a girl." The stoutest of the women declared to her friends. "Just look at how dewy her skin is."

"No, No, Gertrude," Her Chinese counterpart argued, "It will be a _boy_. See how shiny her hair is?"

Rightly Perturbed by such a frank discussion about the gender of her unborn child, Severus looked fully prepared to flee as her father joined in on the debate with his assertions that the Chinese Calendar Predictor leaned toward the child being a girl. A feeble argument which was, almost comically, destroyed by the the tiny Chinese woman.

"Perhaps we should visit another table." Sirius suggested, as the debate began to grow heated.

At first, Severus looked entirely unwilling to abandon her father to the scorn and derision of the dissented saleswomen, her loyalty quite admirable given the way said man was currently embarrassing her by commenting on her urinating habits as of late. But when the unsavory topic of sexual positioning was brought up, and how the length of one particular member could very well influence the member, Severus turned on her heel and promptly stalked off- leaving a mortified Sirius to trail after her.

He found the peeved woman standing in front of a small jewelry stand, the vicious scowl on her face quite prominent as she idly perused the small collection of trinkets littering the wobbly table. Frightened of such a harsh expression, the young teenaged girl looked desperately to Sirius for assistance, clearly fearing the worst. But not wanting to speak to the vexed woman until the scowl disappeared, or at the very least lessened in intensity, Sirius followed the Slytherin's suit and rooted casually through a large bowl of miscellaneous jewelry, not really looking at any of them closely until he came across an amethyst ring he thought the ever-helpful and deserving Molly Weasley might like.

"Oh." Severus breathed softly, pulling his focus.

As discreetly as he was able to, Sirius looked out from the corner of his eyes to see what might have elicited such a sound of excitement from the usually reserved woman. From what he could tell, given his disadvantaged point of view, it was a tarnished silver hairpin, it's timeworn bridge rimmed entirely with pretty, yet cloudy, pink pearls. Flipping it about in her thin fingers a few times, surely in pursuit of a price tag, the comely Slytherin narrowed her darks and glared at the cashier in an accusatory manner.

"This," Severus drawled, brandishing the pin, "Is without a tag."

Looking like she might wither beneath Severus's displeased stare, the young teenager half-hid her face behind a magazine before answering.

"Thirty pounds." The small brunette squawked. "But I'll take twenty seeing as how it's so dirty."

The Slytherin's face fell at the modest price, and Sirius watched as she discreetly settled the aged jewelry back into its proper place with a false air of nonchalance. Without any hesitation, as he knew he would lose his bravado if he tarried, Sirius plucked the abandoned pin up before Severus could even object.

"May I?" He queried, wriggling the object in her face.

"What are you going on about, Black?" Severus demanded, eyeing his warrily.

Without another word, Sirius used his free hand to pull a section of her wavy, black hair, careful not to move too quickly and startle the wary spy.

"We can't have you casting things aside without trying them on first." He advised, sticking the pin into the clumsy fold he had just created.


	19. Chapter 19

"Really, Black, there was no need for you to go and buy the pin for me." Severus chastised softly, gently fingering the jewelry still in her hair.

Black just smiled dismissively at her, his own fingers still trying to smooth down the clumsy fold he had made in her hair. And while Severus had initially stiffened at such a foreign touch, as it really was quite an intimate gesture, she had forcefully restrained herself and allowed the soft petting to continue. For as loathe as she was to admit it to herself, the stroking did actually feel absurdly nice. It was how she imagined all the prettier girls had felt in school as their suitors played about with their hairs- pretty, she thought, pretty and... _wanted_.

"It suited you too well to leave it behind." He assured, looking at her queerly.

Severus shivered slightly at the look, unsure of its nature or his intentions. She had _never_ been look upon in that matter before, after all, and such a fact caused no small about of anxiety in her person. And while she trusted Black to be civil with her, at least _now_ , the thought that she was ignorant as to his intentions made her uneasy. She was a master Occlumens after all. If _anybody_ should be circumventing her skills, which were vast, it should not be an untrained Gryffindor of all people.

"Why do you look at me so strangely?" Severus found herself asking, when at long last the unnamed tension became unbearable.

"You have rather pretty eyes." Black blushed. "That's all."

Severus couldn't help but blink in surprise, for even though she knew the words were nothing more than a polite lie, the utterance of them was still flattering in their own right. All her life she'd been told her eyes were as ugly and cold as coal, first by her father and then by all the other girls and boys in her neighborhood. She did not have _normal_ eyes, Elsie Grant had told her once after Sunday School, _she had an ugly beatles eyes._

"How you lie." She protested, casting her eyes downward.

"I'm _not_ lying." Black promised, sounding more sincere than he had any right to.

Thus said, the generous Gryffindor pulled his face closer to hers for a better look. Fearing an impromptu kiss, one she had not adequately prepared for in any shape of form, she clamped her teeth together to stave off any errant tongue. She had not kissed anyone since that day in the gazebo, even though Charles Avery had once tried to pry one out of her with threats of a powerful hex. And while the passionate night she had shared with Black _had_ involved a good deal of snogging, it had been a different sort of kissing than the ones involved in moments like these.

But before he could so much as tilt his head, if kissing her really was what he intended to do, Albus returned with his arms full of knitted good and interrupted the queer moment with an ejaculation that was far too cheerful to be natural.

"There you two are!"

Severus bit back a frown as Black quickly jerked his hand away from her hair, the pleasant warmness of his fingers having been removed well before she was ready. Flustered at such feelings, as they were hardly a part of daily repoiture, she turned as casually as she could to her father and grimaced at his purchases.

"We live in London." She reminded the elderly man. "Why would you ever need a sombrero?"

"For our yearly trip to the beach, Lamb." Albus replied, almost smugly.

"You have your captains hat for that." Severus also reminded. "Though Merlin knows you're no captain."

Her father frowned at the reminder of his disastrous attempt to pilot the small leisure boat he had conned the captain into surrendering him for a few minutes, his pride slightly wounded by the correct insinuations that he was not a great driver of any vehicle save his broom or bike.

"I do believe Captain Ward's insurance covered the cost of replacing all those docks."

Feeling ashamed of being so waspish with her father, Severus sighed and softened the expression on her face as she removed a few articles of clothing from the pile in the Headmaster's arm. Black, after a nudge in the ribs from her, made to do the same.

"Well now," Albus grinned, when at last the weight of all the clothing had been evenly distributed, "I dare say I'm a bit peckish. Shall we make our way back to the truck and find a place to eat? Gertrude _did_ mention there was a nice little Mexican place no more than a mile away."

Mouth watering at the thought of fresh churros slathered in butter, Severus nodded her agreement to the suggestion and hoped that Black would not insist they eat elsewhere. For while she wasn't a very picky eater, per se, she was allergic to quite a few foods and intolerant to even more than that.

"Mexican food sounds great, actually." Black thankfully agreed.

Arriving at the truck, the Headmaster carefully shrank all his his clothing once he was sure there were no muggled about and quickly stuffed the new merchandise into the purple bag he proudly referred to his purse even though it was more akin to a briefcase than anything else. Thus dead, he crawled into the middle, and held out an arm to help Severus in. But Sirius beat him to it, placing his hands on her waist to give her a boost up into the truck.


	20. Chapter 20

"Papa, the line is so very long." Severus fussed, looking in distaste upon the long line of people crowded haphazardly in front of her. "Let us go somewhere else."

Stomach rumbling quite loudly, Sirius was fully prepared to agree with such a sound suggestion. For as peckish as he was for a hot meal, which was very, the thought of fighting for a table in such a full restaurant was more than just a little off-putting. He was, after all, a man who liked to eat _when_ he wanted to eat. And, furthermore, Severus was clearly just as uncomfortable with the idea of waiting as was he- perhaps even more so, he thought with a frown, as he glanced down at caught sight of the grotesque way her swollen ankles pushed against the straps of her leather sandals.

"The city is full, miss." The obese, old man in front of them advised, his doughy face quite sweaty and pinched "You'll not find any place to eat without waiting."

Severus actually groaned at the unsolicited caution, her pallid fingers immediately going to the tiny swell of her abdomen. It was an unconscious decision, Sirius knew, one that seemed to go almost entirely unnoticed by the pregnant woman standing slump-shouldered beside him. Taking compassion on her plight, as he had been the one to put her in such a state, Sirius placed his hand about her back and made to steer her back toward the door. They had passed several fast-food restaurants on the way, he recalled, one of those would just have to suffice for the time being.

"Julius," a decidedly squat woman squawked, looking up at the fat man who had earlier addressed them, "The young girl is pregnant- let them go ahead of us."

"Mable." The elderly woman's husband blushed. "You must not speak so...vulgarly of her...condition."

Had it not been for Severus's discomfort at finding herself the focus of an unwelcome discussion, Sirius might have laughed at how very much the primp man reminded him of the old-fashioned Slytherin.

"You go on ahead of us, too." A young mother obliged, shooing them ever forward in the line.

Mable seemed to have set off some sort of ripple effect with her words, the keen observation she had made only moments ago somehow ushering about an atmosphere where nearly everybody in the long queue was more than willing to surrender their place to the mortified mother-to-be. In fact, aside from a small contingent of what Sirius assumed was lawyers, they were soon very near to the front of the line.

"We only have an hour for lunch." Their assumed leader barked, clearly affronted by Sirius's facial suggestion that they might be allowed to cut in line.

The teenaged hostess glowered at the unfriendly man's tone, and subtly caught the eye of the laughing owner as he navigated his way along the line with promises of free dessert to make up for the long wait.

"Ah, you three, come along." He grinned, his English clipped but perfectly decipherable.

"Excuse me," A balding lawyer huffed, " _We_ have been waiting for half an hour."

The muscular owner shrugged, throwing wide his enormous hands in a gesture of feigned helplessness.

"No tables big enough for you, yet." The man explained, his apology more than just a little lacking.

Having thus dismissed the grumbling businessmen, the cheerful man lead them along the wide aisles with a soft smile on his face and directed them to be seated at a booth more than large enough to have seated the corporate prats still in line. Grinning widely at Severus's perplexed look, the middle-aged man gave her a wink before clueing her in.

"If people wish to eat in _my_ restaurant, they must be kind."

Mumbling her thanks, Severus slid into the booth beside her father and quickly hid herself behind the large menus provided them. Seeing as it would be very odd, indeed, for them all three to be seated on one side, and also desiring to give the overwhelmed woman a little space, Sirius slipped into the free side of the booth and tried not to feel so wounded at the way Severus still seemed so nervous around him.

"We are starting with drinks, yes?" The owner assumed, tapping the back of a spare menu to show them the selection. "Might I suggest Horchata?"

Sirius was about to inquire as to what that was, fully prepared to try something new, when Severus poked her head out from behind the menu and glowered warningly at him.

" _No_ ," She dictated, her face slightly green, " _Nothing_ with milk."

"Ah," Gabriel chuckled knowingly, "I shall bring _you_ a glass of pickle juice."

Unnerved by what must have been the correct assumption, Severus nodded primly before concealing her face once more.

"Will you be much offended if I have a margherita?" Sirius inquired, thinking fondly upon the memory of James abstaining (albeit rather briefly) in solidarity with Lily.

"You are driving." Severus reminded with a severe frown.

"It is much too early to be drinking, do you not think?" Albus questioned, glancing down at his silver wristwatch.

Had Sirius not begun to grow accustomed to the behaviors of his fellow tablemates, he might have excused the refusal to drink to something as simple as the expectant mother's nausea. But, as it was, the medication assigned to the spy seemed to have taken effect mere moments after their exit from the clinic- as evidenced by the way the Slytherin had been able to devour his remaining crisps in one go. Had he been as impudent as he was in his youth, which was remarkably so, Sirius might have pressed the matter. But, he ruminated, there was little cause for doing so now. He was not, as of yet, in a position where such a question would be answered- much less tolerated. He would simply have to enjoy his meal with a virgin margarita instead, his innocent and well-intentioned questions be damned.

"It's nice and cool in here." Sirius observed, relieved to find the sweat clinging to his neck and back drying.

"Yes, thank Merlin for that." Agreed Severus, peeping out from behind the menu. "I could scarcely tolerate another moment in that sauna of a truck."

"You know," Sirius began, suddenly unsure of himself, "I'm a bit of a mechanic. I'd be more than willing to look at your truck."

To be perfectly honest, Sirius was almost _eager_ for a chance to poke about in the antiquated the model, the challenge of such being a most welcome prospect as life in Grimmauld Place was proving really quite dull at times. Aside from the frequent adventures and bonding to be had with Harry, when said boy was _indeed_ at home and not in the company of the Weasleys, the only real stimulation seemed to come from the frequent bickering of the freshly-married couple currently taking up residence within his ancestral home. And, as it was, such diversions were much more uncomfortable than they were welcome.

"Thank you, Black, but I could not _possibly_ allow myself to accept such an offer. I find I have already taken too much advantage of your generosity."

Sirius blinked, amused at the young woman's absurd reference of his purchasing the cheap hairpin for her. It was almost as if the modest Slytherin felt such an unassuming kindness beneath her, as if though such acts did not _deserve_ to fall on someone of her nature. More than just a little disturbed at the realization, as he realized he had no doubt played a large factor in such depressing beliefs, Sirius resolved to redeem himself as quickly as he could. He would _not_ , by any means, willingly parent a child with a woman who both feared and reviled him.

"It would be far from an imposition." Sirius asserted, almost too eagerly.

"You have not been long released from Azkaban." Severus drawled, her pale face full of uncertainty. "Surely you have more pressing matters to attend to."

Sirius winced at the mention of such a hellish fortress, and couldn't but shiver as vivid memories of the dementors raced through him.

"Those matters are unimportant compared to yours." Sirius asserted. "You're to have my child after all."

"So you admit you _do_ have pressing matters that need attending to." Severus deduced, frustratingly unwilling to accept his help.

In truth, there was rather a great deal which called for Sirius's negligent attention. The correction of his ledgers and accounts, left vindictively in array by Kreacher, being at the forefront of those. For while he _had_ accrued a vast fortune, one only increased with interest during his long sojourn in prison, so too had he also inherited the debts (which had also increased with interest) of his parents. And while he understood perfectly well that said debts were meagre in comparison with his fortune, the thoughts of tracing down all the inconsequential debtors made him exhausted.

The state of his many properties, and the accompanying anxiety wrought by such, stood only marginally second to that of his unorganized finances. Seven in number, _excluding_ Grimmauld Place, the ancestral properties had been left to go to rot in the absence of a clear inheritor, and were thus being subsequently threatened with condemnation if they were not soon brought up to ministry code. For while a hefty bribe had assured that The Committee of Housing Safety would overlook the minor structural deficits, they outright refused to ignore the infestation of fairies in his beach cottage and the outbreak of Devil's Snare in his london home- their very real fear that Muggles would soon discover the existence of such a fair, if not frustrating, one.

"Nothing is more pressing to me than _your_ affairs." Sirius again protested. "A happy mother will give birth to a happy child."

It was a sound argument, and not even the shrewd Severus could find a way to discredit. She opted cleverly, instead, to shift about the conversation so that she need not give consent to his earlier offer. Were such behavior not so vexating, or at the very least not directed at his person, Sirius might have found it amusing if not tolerable at the very least.

"If we must speak of our unborn child," Severus began, quite solemnly, "I wish to let it be known that I no longer think it prudent to employ the services of Dr. Forrester. I wish, instead, for the services of a midwife."

It was a more than welcome thought, for as soon as Sirius had met the aforementioned man he had been struggling to find a way in which he might rid Severus of him. Crude, and perhaps more than a bit ignorant, said man was a most unnecessary part of this pregnancy. Furthermore, the stale personality was a Muggle of all things. And while Sirius would normally have no qualms about the magical makeup of a person, the fact still remained that it was only prudent for a magical pregnancy to be attended by a magical being.

"I think that would be best." Sirius agreed enthusiastically. "Do you have any in mind?"

"I have not had long to dwell on such a matter." Severus confessed.

Sirius wanted to implore her to chose soon, for securing a prominent midwife was no easy feat in their community, when the food arrived and he was forced to abstain from such a topic. And, when at last the waitress had taken her leave, his intentions were further thwarted by the eager way in which Severus bit into her taco and savored the flavor.

"My cousin Andromeda found her midwife quite acceptable," Sirius hinted, when at last Severus paused to take a drink, "Perhaps we could employ her?"

Dabbing at her clean lips, Severus shook her head twice and frowned.

"Agatha is dead." The ravenous Slytherin informed with a scowl, slathering butter on a third churro.

"What of Narcissa's midwife? Did she not do a fair job with Draco?" Sirius pressed.

As much as he now despised the youngest of his Black's cousins, there had been a time (albeit brief) where they had gotten along in their childhood. As such, it seemed impossible to Sirius for him to address her with the distasteful and aloof title of Mrs. Malfoy.

"Which midwife, Black?" Severus demanded, stilling clinging to her formalities.

"Any of them?" Sirius shrugged, unaware that his cousin had had more than one.

"No, I think not." Severus sniffed, dissecting her burrito with a practiced hand before removing the beans. "Gretel is _far_ too unkind, I find, and Hester was not much better. As for Martha," the spy frowned, "She is far too incompetent to hold such a position. The silly oaf nearly dropped Draco after his delivery."

"Were they all so unacceptable?" Sirius questioned, surprised to find that his picky cousin had employed such women.

"Margaret was wonderful." Severus confessed. "But very much expensive."

Arriving at the crux of the problem, Sirius smiled and scribbled the midwife's first name on a clean napkin with the muggle pen he had found lying behind the hot sauce.

"And what is this Margaret's last name?"

"She is a Selwyn." Severus educated, completely unaware of his scribbling as she nibbled at another churro.

"Excellent." Sirius grinned. "I'll contact her immediately and secure her services."

Severus startled slightly, and nearly dropped the churro she held delicately in her fingers.

"You can do no such thing." She insisted. "Not only is she _much_ too expensive to employ, but the Parkinson's have secured her for themselves."

"I am a Black," Sirius declared, hating to speak such words but speaking them all the same, "I have no doubts that Margaret will forgo her current clientele for us."

"You need not go about securing her for me, at all, for I have not asked you to do any such thing for me." Severus fussed, looking flustered at such a kind offer.

"If it gives you any relief," Sirius grinned, "You may think of it as me doing something kind for our baby."


	21. Chapter 21

"Narcissa," Severus drawled, squirming slightly in her seat, "Just where has Draco gotten to? I promised to take him into Hogsmeade this afternoon."

Narcissa took an overly long sip of her tea before deigning to grace her houseguest with the proper attention due to her station as the godmother of her child.

"I have sent him to the Notts for the afternoon." Narcissa confessed. "Young Theodore is fallen ill with the Thresthal Pox and Ambrosia thought a bit of company would do the boy some good."

Clearly peeved at having not been informed of such a change in plans, yet unable to leave without a proper excuse, the younger woman fiddled restlessly with her teaspoon before glancing pointedly at the antique clock decorating the wall of the formal parlour.

"Perhaps I ought to make a stop at the Notts and bring poor Theodore a soothing salve for his marks." The swollen-faced woman suggested. "Do you recall how Draco nearly scratched himself bloody when _he_ had the pox?"

"I think that would be quite unnecessary." Narcissa decided, refusing her reluctant houseguest permission to leave. "Theodore is a young man capable of resisting the urge to scratch, he will not behave as Draco did when he was small."

"Be that as it may," Severus lectured, "There is no _need_ for the poor boy to go untreated."

"You need not fuss so fretfully, Severus." Narcissa dismissed, refilling her own cup even as she ignored the empty cup of her guests. "For Margaret has been to see me and has assured me that Theodore is being treated quite capably by a small team of Healers."

Lending to her credence as a spy, Severus's only tell of surprise at the mention of said midwife was a brief hitch in her breathing. An incident which, had one not known better, might have innocently been attributed to a successfully stifled sneeze.

"I was not aware that you and Margaret had rekindled your relationship." The coy woman stated suggestively.

Narcissa scowled at the remark, and forced herself to retain her even temperament. It would not due, after all, for her begin a confrontation before all the information she required had been given. As it was, her private arsenal was already shamefully underpowered.

"I am a woman long married." Narcissa replied coolly. "It is only natural that the employment of a midwife might become a necessity with time."

While the heavy suggestion of a pregnancy would normally make any woman giddy with excitement, especially so the baby-hungry Severus, the fact that the supposed pregnancy lie within Narciss dampered any joyous feelings either of them might have shared in confidence. For while Merlin had decided to bestow upon her the blessing of Draco, the fact still remained that the caprices of life had stolen three babies in the womb before him as well as given her a stillborn daughter not even two years after the birth of her much coveted son.

"When might you expect your bundle of joy?" Severus questioned, her voice thick with false enthusiasm.

"I might have expected her in November." Narissa admitted, fingers flickering across the womb that had once been full of a constantly-kicking daughter.

"Narcissa, I am so very sorry." Severus expressed, uncomfortable with heavy emotion but expressing it nonetheless. "I would that such a thing _never_ happened to you."

Compassion had compelled the darker-haired woman to reach across the table and squeeze her hand, and Narcissa (despite herself) resentfully accepted the offer of sympathy by allowing such an intimate touch to occur. But, when such an act caused her to look up into her guests face and see the cheeks of such so swollen, all anger returned and she could not help but spew the venom she had been withholding.

"I would that it never happen to you either." Narcissa growled, digging her manicured nails into her younger counterparts ink-stained palm.

Severus winced as the nails began to draw small droplets of blood but held her ground, steadfastly maintaining her innocence in a manner most grating to Narcissa.

"I am afraid you have misspoken in your grief." The perturbed professor gently rebuked, struggling to free her assaulted hand. "For I am an unmarried woman and by no means-"

Severus actually yelped as Narcissa's manicured claws pressed in ever sharper, and jolted to her feet to better free herself from such unexpected malice. Now standing before her with a wounded expression, and her dripping palm wrapped carelessly in a pristine cloth napkin, Severus only _now_ seemed as properly concerned as she should have been at the inception of the impromptu meeting.

"Whatever do you mean treating me in such a manner?!" Severus demanded, her offense being rapidly replaced with irritation.

"I mean to stop you from acting like such a brainless twit?!" Narcissa retorted, also rising to her feet. "How _dare_ you sit in my home while you lie to my face!?"

"How you go on." Severus accused, not nearly as composed as she had once been.

"Did I _not_ just tell you that Margaret has been to see me?" Narcissa growled. "Did it _not_ occur to you that I now know more than you wish I might."

Severus paled at the unceremonious announcement, and subsequently sank slowly into the chair she had not too long ago vacated.

"I...have not the slightest idea of what Margaret might have told you." She confessed, her voice strong but wavering. "And I have not the energy to make such a discovery. I find I am suddenly ill and need to return home for a rest." She rose again to her feet. "Do make my apologies to Draco, will you?"

"You will go _nowhere_ until I have the full truth from you." Narcissa hissed, fully prepared to use every weapon in her repertoire to stay the spy. "For I have just heard alarming news from Margaret and I demand to know which parts of it are true and which are merely an exaggeration."

"We both know Margaret is not a woman to exaggeration." Severus scolded, her face still devoid of color. "Whatever she had told you is what she believes to be the truth."

Narcissa felt herself color angrily at the news, the confirmation of a pregnancy in an unwed mother provoking of a jealousy so profound it was nearly deadly in its intentions. For not only had the trollop somehow managed to seduce the cousin she had once adored as a child, so to had she managed to conceive a _pureblood_ child. The injustice was almost more than she could bare. That _she_ , a woman who could trace her ancestry back to the Middle Ages, could not manage to produce anymore than one child without great difficulty, while _Severus_ (a cursed half-blood) managed to do so without _trying_ was the very height of unfairness.

"Then you _are_ carrying the Black heir." Narcissa announced.

"It is as you say." Severus confessed, pressing a hand against her stomach protectively.

Narcissa might have wept from jealousy, let alone rage, but held strong and resolved not to hold the seemingly healthy pregnancy against the younger Slytherin. She could be angry at the lies, _yes_ , but not for the pregnancy itself. That was beyond childish, after all, and Narcissa was no child.

"Narcissa, for the love I bare your son, _please_ , you cannot tell a soul of this."

"Do you honestly think I would sacrifice the wellbeing of a child to get back at you for lying to me?" She demanded, bristling at the unspoken accusations.

Severus just closed her eyes, utter exhaustion splayed across her face.

"I do not know what to expect of anyone anymore."


	22. Chapter 22

Despite having already gotten herself in such a compromising situation, Severus still felt rather uncomfortable about being alone with Black in said man's private bedroom. It was not at all proper, she knew, and were her parents still alive and privy to the recent wanton behaviors of their daughter she knew they would have _killed_ her to spare themselves the shame of having a harlot for a child.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything to drink?" Black pressed. "Tea, juice, _water_?"

"No, thank you." Severus refused, for the fifth time that morning.

Quite frankly, she was peeing quite enough already as it was. There was no need, she reflected, to compound such an inconvenient problem by fueling her already haywire bladder.

"What about a biscuit?" Black needled, eager to play a good host. "Molly brought over some delicious sugar biscuits yesterday. They're still soft."

"I do not want a biscuit, Black." Severus assured, sitting quite stiffly in a chair that was made more for decoration than it was for comfort.

An awkward silence erupted then, neither of them really knowing just what to say to the other now that they were completely alone for the first time since the conception of their child. And while Severus might have loved to discuss and plan for the subsequent parenting arrangement that was soon to come, she soon found she did not have it within her to speak of something so important when she was still so angry with the careless aristocrat for hiring the midwife without giving her nary a warning. It was _his_ fault, she reflected, that Narcissa had caught her unawares.

"Are you alright, Severus?" Black fussed, looking highly anxious as to the state of her wellbeing. "You seem...angry."

Severus wanted nothing more than to inform the clueless Gryffindor of his grievous errors, as well as his outright stupidity, but stopped herself at the last moment- deciding, wisely, that a bit of diplomacy was called for seeing as she was alone and all too exhausted to waste energy with any yelling that might occur as a result of her waspishness.

"Your cousin, _Black_ , was made aware of your hiring of Margaret before I was." Severus informed, opting to let the man figure out his crime for himself.

Sirius frowned, still groggy from his early rise and not at all as astute to the workings of a woman's mind as she might have liked.

"Andromeda?" The tall man frowned. "I can't see _how_ she found out, not unless Tonks somehow found out and told her."

"Your _other_ cousin, Black." Severus hissed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

Black was in the middle of a large yawn when the situation suddenly dawned on him and vanquished all sources of tiredness from his body.

"How-"

"Our midwife informed her." Severus clarified. "Had you bothered to warn me beforehand that you were going to hire Margaret, I would required beforehand that she allow me to langlock her."

Now aware of his carelessness, Black sank unto his large bed and looked quite fearfully upon her.

"Has Narcissa told-"

"No," Severus assured, "And she allowed me to Langlock her before I left."

His fear of the worst having been abated, Black ran a muscular hand through his dark hair and actually grinned, oblivious to the fact that the mother of his child was still quite peeved at having been left out of the making of a major decision. But before she could so much articulate an argument, much less refine it within in her head, Kreacher apparated noisily into the room and informed them that Margaret had come at last.

Leaving Black to go and fetch the slightly-late midwife, Severus took advantage of his absence to lean back a little into the chair and massage her tender breasts. Despite now being nearly three months along, it was the uncomfortable swelling of her bosoms and ankles that bothered her most now that the morning sickness had been reasonably curved. Apart from the occasional hot bath in which she was able to enjoy at Hogwarts, the tub back in Spinner's End being much too leaky, there was not at all that gave her any relief for such an awkward dilemma.

Thankfully, she was not left long to bemoan the fate of her chest, as Black soon heralded in the unsmiling midwife known as Margaret. Thin and wispy, with long coppery hair pulled up into a tight knot, the woman seemed uncomfortably formidable and not at all as welcoming as Severus recalled her being with Narcissa. A phenomenon, Severus scowled, that was only to be expected given her position as a Slytherin and an unwed mother-to-be.

"It is most unusual," Mr. Black, the middle-aged woman began, "For the _master_ of the house to do the welcoming of a midwife."

Despite herself, Severus blushed slightly at the obvious inference and waited in agitation to hear just how Black would respond. For while had been behaving civilly toward her, _kind_ even, the fact still remained that he done so only in the company of an audience of those who cared for her.

"We live in an unusual time." Black replied, smile faltering.

"We live in a time of carelessness." Margaret corrected, placing her large black bag on the nightstand beside the bed. "You," She glanced at Severus, "Up on the bed."


	23. Chapter 23

Sirius, quite uncharacteristically, was dangerously close to losing his cool on a woman. For not only had the obstinate midwife steadfastly _refused_ to address Severus directly, other than when necessity dictated she must, so to have the aloof woman nearly reduced the usually composed spy to tears by the conclusion of her examination. Stone-faced, but dark eyes now lined with salty tears, the potion-enthusiast still lay back against the pillows as she had been earlier bid, the silken sheet she had pulled up over herself to conceal her nakedness now clutched tightly in both her fists as she worked ardently to master her emotions.

"Margaret," Sirius spoke, frowning as he watched the midwife meticulously pack up her equipment, "Were we not going to be given the chance to listen to the baby's heartbeat?"

While he admittedly knew very little about the concept of pregnancy, Severus herself had informed him that morning that they would have the chance to hear their child's heart beating. It was all Sirius had thought about since the examination had begun, the very prospect of catching a glimpse into the working of their child's heart almost overwhelming. For as childish as it sounded, he had actually been feeling quite left out throughout this ordeal. After all, _Severus_ was the one who got to actually carry their child and nourish it. All _he_ got to do, it seemed, was _finance_ the child.

"I have heard the heartbeat for myself, Mr. Black, and I assure you that all is well."

While he had been able to hire her services, Sirius had not at all been successful in securing her as a _primary_ midwife. The unsmiling woman, he had soon found, was obstinately unwilling to lose her reputation as trustworthy by forgoing the Parkinson family in favor of an unmarried couple, even _if_ half of said couple was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"I have no doubts about your capabilities." Sirius assured. "But I really would like to hear my child's heartbeat. I've been looking _forward_ to it."

The midwife scoffed, actually _scoffed_ , but removed her wand from the pocket she had slipped it in. With a much bereaved sigh, the unpleasant redhead tapped the stubby tool against her pale palm three times, muttering some Latin unknown to Sirius until at last the wand in her hand began to emit a soft blue glow.

"Really, Mr. Black, Wouldn't you rather wait and hear the heartbeat of your trueborn when the time comes?"

Severus bit her lip at the flippant remark, and Sirius felt his blood boil at yet another onslaught.

"I would think that any child of mine is 'trueborn.'" He corrected gruffly, already making plans to find a replacement midwife.

One from St. Mungo's preferably, at least _then_ the midwife would _have_ to be kind.

"Very well." Margaret droned, stalking over to the large bed.

Severus flinched at her approach, clearly fearing yet another rough session of poking and prodding without proper warning being given beforehand. Sympathizing, and also himself suspicious, Sirius seated himself at her covered feet and gently wrapped his fingers about the toes of her left foot. It was a ridiculously small act of comfort, one that would surely fail to soothe anyone not as touch-deprived as the expectant Slytherin. But, as it was, the curmudgeon in his bed accepted the touch, wriggling her toes only once in surprise.

"Take the sheet down." Margaret commanded, tapping her foot impatiently.

Slowly, but surely, Severus slowly removed the golden sheets from her body, pushing down the rich fabric until at last her the uppermost portion of her body was exposed. Sirius might have winced at the sight had he not already taken care to prepare himself for such a garish scene. Criss-crossed all over with the evidence of whippings and hexes, the pallid body now had the added engorgement of breasts to increase its ravished landscape.

"Here we go." Margaret announced unceremoniously, pressing the tip of her wand into the colorless flesh of Severus's abdomen.

The younger Slytherin winced at the apparent chilliness of the wand, the flesh on her stomach rising up in a myriad of prominent goosebumps. Squeezing her toes once more, Sirius angled his body so that he might better see all that was happening, entirely unwilling to be left out of any portion of this.

It was a long while before the faint _thumping_ of a heartbeat could be heart, the irritated midwife having maneuvered the wand about quite lazily in her attempt to locate the tiny heart. But, when at last the sound began to make itself known, it was all that Sirius could concentrate on. Pausing in his raptures only to steal a glance at Severus, who was likewise stupefied at the scenario, he closed his eyes and grinned widely as he imagined the child such a sound belonged to. _A girl_ , he thought, _a girl would be nice to start with_. He did not feel the need for another boy just yet, _not_ when he already had Harry in custody. A boy, the continuation of his family name, could wait a while longer yet.

"That's a fast heartbeat." Severus commented, clearly having counted along with the midwife. "That means it's a girl!"

Sirius was delighted to find that the mother of his child shared the same wish for a girl, and he found himself, again, squeezing her toes in utter rapture. _Merlin_ , he thought, _if the baby could just inherit_ her _hair and eyes, and_ his _nose and skin- why, the child would be the prettiest thing in all of existence. A doll,_ he thought, _an absolute doll_.

"I wouldn't go making such assumptions." Margaret snorted, abruptly cutting short the experience by yanking her wand away. "Heart rate calculations are have absolutely _nothing_ to do with gender."

Severus all but deflated at the news, and Sirius found himself doing the same. While he was certainly glad the baby appeared in good health, the prospect of waiting even longer to discover the gender of their child was disappointing. Already Tonks and Remus were buying clothing for their son, their purchases extravagant for their meagre income but also a fun necessity as well. Sirius, while more than happy to accompany the young couple and furnish the majority of the payment, was nearly impatient to go about making his own purchases. Furthermore, if his baby truly _was_ the girl he so ardently wished for, he would want for nothing more than to dig out the christening gown that the Blacks had been wearing for nigh on a melinia.

"When...when do we find out what we're having?" Sirius pressed, eager to assuage both his and Severus's anxiety.

"In a few more weeks." Margaret informed, completely unsympathetic.

As Severus's face fell, Sirius squeezed her toes and rose to his feet, deciding right then to make a swift end to this ordeal. Not only had Margaret been almost _entirely_ unhelpful, so to had so been vindictive and unhelpful. Not only did the mother of his child _not_ deserve such treatment, so too would Sirius would not _allow_ it.

"Thank you, Margaret." He said cordially, strolling over to the door. "I think that will be all for today."

Thus said, he held open the door for the errant midwife and subsequently lead her throughout the corridors of Grimmauld Place and into the informal living room.

"Feel free to use the floo or apparate, Margaret." Sirius allowed.

"I'll make use of the floo, I think." The midwife decided, idling over to the grand fireplace before grabbing up a pinch of powder.

Sirius waited until the offending woman had gone before he made his way into the large kitchen of his current home. Severus, despite her efforts to conceal such, had clearly been upset when he had left her upstairs to her own devices. And while he knew hot chocolate would likely not be a welcome sight for the upset woman, he thought an icy glass of Sprite might serve well in its place. Tonks seemed to enjoy it after all, and Lily had too at one point.

Having filled two glasses full of the refreshing beverage, Sirius made his way back upstairs as quickly as he was able. While he didn't want to appear too eager, he also didn't want his reluctant houseguest to leave before he had been given an opportunity to broach the subject of switching medical providers yet again. Knocking only once on his door, and subsequently removing all chances for an easy escape, he gently pushed into the bedroom and found Severus fully dressed once more- her clothing impossibly immaculate but her hair rather mussed from the pillows she had earlier leaned against.

To his great surprise, Kreacher was even there, standing in front of his bed with a dopey grin as he helped Severus back into the sandals she had suddenly taken to wearing once the swelling in her ankles had become intolerable.

"I brought refreshments." Sirius announced, calling attention unto himself so that he could not be accused of spying.

"Miss Severus is wanting lemon with hers!" The House Elf squawked indignantly, startling both Sirius and the pregnant as he apparated off in pursuit of the fruit.

It was only then that Sirius recalled his younger brother had been quite close to the older Slytherin, especially so after the incident in fifth-year in which Lily and she had broken ties.

"I've never seen Kreacher so eager to help somebody." Sirius observed, handing the fullest of the glasses to his guest.

"He isn't so awful once he decides to like you." The Slytherin assured, taking a tentative sip of the liquid.

Finding enjoyable, or at the very least palatable, Severus then took a larger sip and leaned back into the stiff chair she had again taken residence in.

"Too bad the same couldn't be said of Margaret." He hinted, sinking unto the chaise lounge at the foot of his bed.

"I had not expected her to be kind." Severus confided, a dark frown clouding her swollen face. "Midwives of _her_ standing are seldom keen of servicing bastards."

"Then why did you ever entertain the idea of hiring her?" Sirius questioned, more perplexed than annoyed.

"She did so very well with Draco," Severus whispered, blushing hotly, "I thought she would surely guarantee the safety of _our_ child."

At once, Sirius understood the reasoning behind such an unsavory assignment. Knowing his cousin to have lost at two or three babies in the womb, if all the rumors could be believed, it only stood to reason that Severus would want to make use of the _one_ midwife who had successfully brought a living Malfoy heir into existence. But, he ruminated, was it really the unsympathetic midwife's doing at all? Had not Andromeda also struggled to bring forth Tonks into the world after a long many years of being barren? And what of Bellatrix? Why, she had not even been able to conceive at all!

"I am very sorry to have found my cousins so infertile." Sirius expressed, entirely sincere where it involved the youngest two Black sisters. "But I do not think that affliction will come upon you."

Not only did she _not_ share the same bloodline, so too had Severus not copulated with a distant relative. Furthermore, the withdrawn woman had proved herself quite capable of conception, falling pregnant at near the same time she had lost her virginity. And if _that_ did not show a certain degree of fecundity that the Black sisters did not have, well, _nothing_ did.

"I do not mean to be under cautious." Severus explained, brushing her fingers against the swell of her stomach.

"Nor do I." Sirius readily assured, sitting ever straighter on his lounge. "Which is _exactly_ why I think we should find another midwife. One whose _kind_. One _invested_ in our child."

"Why even bother with searching for another?" Severus groused, glaring down at his pristine floorboards. "They will _all_ despise servicing a bastard."

In truth, it was that very subject which had been giving Sirius so very many sleepless night. For while he held but little stock in idiosyncrasies and traditions of his kin, the fact still remained that it was not at all favorable to be a bastard in the magical community- especially so when one came from money. But, up until now, he had had no real idea on how to approach such a sensitive subject with Severus.

"For the sake of our child..." Sirius found himself blushing hotly at the words, but pressed stubbornly forward, "I would be more than willing to sign a marriage contract with you."

Wordlessly, Severus nodded and fetched free from her purse a folded slip of parchment.

"Lucius has promised to push it through quickly." The defeated woman sighed. "No one need know we were not married before I fell...pregnant."


	24. Chapter 24

"I almost think we ought to have Kreacher bring up some champagne to mark the occasion." Black teased weakly, awkwardly surrendering the parchment he had just signed back to Severus.

Not trusting herself to speak just yet, Severus reluctantly accepted the parchment from her 'husband' and placed it carefully in an outside pocket of her purse, taking great care to make certain it was secure before setting aside the aging reticule.

"I should be going." She suddenly decided, the silence all too aggravating to bare.

Black jumped to his feet, looking fully prepared to beg she stay, when Kreacher returned suddenly and startled them both. Lanky arms laden with a silver tray filled with a variety of plated lemons and limes, the Elf smiled brightly at her before turning to glower at his master- evidently displeased with the man for having upset her.

"I'm sorry." Black apologized, ignoring the glaring Elf. "I shouldn't have teased you about the drinking."

Before Severus could even inform the aristocrat of the _true_ source of her anger, Kreacher piped up with a condemnation of his own.

"Yes!" The wrinkled creature croaked, angrily. "Master is _knowing_ Miss Severus cannot be drinking!"

Before the two males could get themselves into a battle for dominance, Severus intervened, not at all keen on hearing the raised voices of men when she already so on edge from a lack of sleep brought on by a stubborn case of heartburn.

"I am _not_ upset about the drinking." Severus readily assured the elf, gratefully accepting a wedge of lemon from the tray.

" _Something_ is upsetting you!" Kreacher persisted. "Tell me what Master is doing to make you so upset!"

Were she not already uncomfortable with all the attention being paid her, the House Elf's concern for her might have been flattering, if not welcome. But, as it was, Severus was quickly becoming overwhelmed with all the fuss being paid her.

"There is nothing wrong." She fibbed, making light of the turmoil within her. "This was just not how I imagined my proposal going."

As silly as it sounded, which was _quite_ , she had always fancied the idea of her suitor getting down on one knee and proposing to her in front of a small crowd. For as loathe as she was to find herself in the spotlight, a certain degree of ceremony was called for in such a special occasion. And while she had _also_ entertained ideas of such an event being a surprise, she had long since abandoned such lofty aspirations in the realization that being a master occlumens would not allow for such a liberty. So too, she thought with a frown, had she abandoned the thoughts of matrimony altogether- her twenties having flown by at an alarming rate exacerbated both by the war and its accompanying depression.

"Yeah," Black sighed, "This isn't how I imagined my proposal going either."

They both sat in silence for quite a while after that, both of them lost in thoughts of an adolescence stolen from them by factors outside their control. The only difference, it seemed, being that Severus had been the harbinger of her _own_ misery while Black had had _his_ thrust upon him by other's incompetencies.

"I should go." Severus stated again, reaching for her purse.

"No." Black insisted, looking nearly desperate. "You should stay awhile."

"Whatever for?" Severus demanded, uneasy to find her escape so unpalatable to her host.

"Margaret says constant apparating isn't good for the baby." The Gryffindor needlessly reminded her.

As much as she would have _loved_ to take the midwife's directive to apparate _only_ when strictly necessary, the fact still remained that such an arrangement would be nigh on impossible for her to carry out. For not only was she bound, by necessity, to travel back and forth from Spinner's End to Hogwarts, so too was she expected to apparate to Black Manor at the slightest hint of a whim from the Dark Lord. And even _if_ she retook residence in Hogwarts, as her father wished for her to do, that would not eliminate all the other places she would need to aparate to for her other responsibilities. It was not as though she were _truly_ the wife of a pure-blooded gentleman, able to rely upon servants and enter without qualms into a certain period of confinement.

"I must return home sometime." Severus stated diplomatically, hoping to avoid yet another argument.

Black looked more than just a little annoyed at her obstinance but, to his credit, kept his voice level when next he addressed her.

"I have been considering that matter for quite some time, actually." The tall man informed, clearly choosing his words very carefully. "And I _think_ I have come up with a solution that will make us both happy."

While she was of the learned opinion that there was _very little_ , indeed, that they could ever agree upon, Severus kept silent and raised a brow to communicate that the Marauder might continue onward with his prepared speil.

"I think you should move into Grimmauld Place for the time being."

Severus nearly choked on the sip of Sprite she had taken, so utterly taken unawares was she. Inexplicably, Black took this as an indication to keep speaking.

"It really is for the best, I think, to have you here." He prattled. "You'll have both Kreacher and I to look after you and run your errands, and you won't need to apparate nearly as often as you've been doing." Really homing to hammer his point home, Black had one more point with which to bolster his argument. "Not to mention it's _far_ safer here."

"I cannot move in with you." Severus declared, uneasy at the very thought.

"Of course you can." Black insisted, forever oblivious. "There is plenty of room."

Now annoyed, and decidedly desperate to be away, Severus rose quickly to her feet and stealthily felt for the wand poking out of her purse.

"I _won't_ move in with you." She amended, creeping toward the door.

At once, Black's face turned thunderous, his bearded face turning a violent shade of fuschia as he clutched his own glass of Sprite in a dangerously powerful hold. Uncomfortably familiar to the look her Father always harbored when he was about to deliver a blow with his beloved whip, Severus found her stomach twisting powerfully as she fumbled for the door knob.

"You won't be able to keep me away from my child forever." He growled, clearly struggling to keep his volume at a reasonable level.

Severus felt her face drain at the remark, thoughts of the Ministry removing the child from her custody the moment it was born dancing wildly through her head. After everything she had done in her youth, she would not be surprised at all if the Minister decided to send some official the very moment she was in labor- so keen would they be to snatch her child the moment she surfaced into the world.

Suddenly it was all too much and, despite her earlier resolve not to show fear, she found herself leaning against the door for support as she worked to garner strength to apparate.

"Keep the hell away from me." She spat, before finally taking her leave.


	25. Chapter 25

Sirius knew he had messed up the moment he had watched his new wife's face drain of color, but had been powerless to do anything to rectify the great crime he had committed, his still thunderous anger and frustration having rendered him preservatively mute at the moment. And while normally he would be quite proud of the fact that he had reigned in his temper, the fact still remained that it was that very restraint which might have contributed to the pregnant Slytherin's concerns. He had caught her unawares with his temperance, he realized, and it was that which had surely unnerved the master occlumens.

"You has upset her!" Kreacher reproached ferociously, white spittle flying from his lips as he threw down the tray in disgust. "Miss Severus is needing a hot bath and a long nap! _Not_ your selfish threats!" Having worked himself into an uproar, the irate Elf threw up his hands in a gesture of complete exhaustion. " _Master Regulus_ would never be treating his wife so meanly!"

While Sirius knew he had done wrong with growling at what was clearly a very agitated woman, he had not actually thought of himself as being threatening until the irreverent Elf had started to lay into him. And even though he knew he had not _intended_ to scare the woman, certainly _not_ , the fact still remained that he had done so in his clumsy attempts to convey the frustrations within him that had come about with Severus's great reluctance to include him in almost _anything_.

"Would you stuff it already?" Sirius snapped. "I'll apologize, alright?!"

"As Master should!" Kreacher huffed, kneeling to retrieve numerous portions of citrus from the floor.

Resisting the urge to take his frustrations with himself out on the relatively innocent servant, Sirius rolled his eyes and hurried from the room, not at all eager to listen in on Kreacher's muttered lectures on the 'proper' way to treat a woman in Severus's condition. If he wanted any information on that subject at all, he would simply ask Molly, someone with more than just a little authority on the subject.

"Where is you going?!" Kreacher demanded, calling loudly after him.

"Out!" Sirius barked, annoyed with all the bagering.

"Master is needing to take his jacket!" Kreacher ordered shrilly. "It might be raining soon!"

As much as he would have loved to spite the Elf by leaving behind his jacket, Sirius found himself heeding the advice and shrugging the light windbreaker on. The sky had been threatening rain since dawn, and a chilly wind (heavy with the promises of an early fall) had come right along with it. By leaving the relatively warm article of clothing behind, he would only be spiting himself, something he was not at all keen on doing despite his strong Gryffindor prolictivities.

Stepping out into the quiet streets of Islington with a slight shiver, Sirius sighed and shrugged the red jacket closer to his skin, greatly disliking the way the chilly air reminded him of Azkaban. But he was on a mission, he reminded himself, one _far_ too important to forgo in favor of the warmth of his fireplace.

Though it had been an immeasurably long time since he had been a patron of any of the shops within his neighborhood, Sirius found the abode of _Bertha's Blooms_ easily enough, having only had to recircle a block or two before the small store surfaced before him. If memory served him currently, and he wasn't exactly sure it _would_ , a family of boisterous Greeks owned the facility. He had talked James into getting Lily's birthday flowers here, one year, he recalled, and the results had been magnificent. Not only did said redhead absolutely _adore_ the custom-made arrangement made _perfectly_ to her preferences, so too had she also forgiven the bespectacled idiot for ever having forgotten her birthday in the first place. Sirius only hoped another arrangement from the same shop would soothe _his_ wife's ire.

Eager to reconcile with his distraught wife, for _both_ their benefit, Sirius stepped eagerly into the shop and relaxed a bit as the warm air hit him and coursed through his bones.

"What are you doing out in such weather?" A muscular man behind the counter wondered, his enormous fingers surprisingly nimble as he tied together a bouquet of roses.

"Only one reason!" A young woman pipped, her smile pretty and all knowing. "He is in trouble with his wife!"

"Ah, yes!" The large man agreed with a laugh. "But _how_ much trouble is he in? _That_ is the important question."

Sirius, despite himself, grinned at the familiar experience of having found himself in the proverbial dog house- the phenomenon itself serving to remind him that his life, albeit gradually, was returning to normal. Or, at the very least, a certain degree of normal.

"The answer is, 'a lot.'" He confessed, rather sheepishly.

"Ah," The man nodded knowingly, "We have ways of fixing that. Don't we, Peanut?"

"Yes, Papa!" The younger of the duo laughed, already making her way out from behind the counter. "No man has failed to earn an apology from _our_ flowers."

Sirius didn't have much to time glance about the crowded shop before she was standing before him, a smile on her face and an expectant gleam in her dark brown eyes.

"What is your wife liking?" The college-aged woman wondered, when after a long time Sirius was still silent.

Looking about at a myriad of flowers all in a variety or purples, pinks, and red, Sirius grimaced and came to the realization that he did not even know Severus's favorite _color_ , let alone her favorite type of flower.

"She likes..." He stalled, looking around the shop desperately for an answer. "She likes-"

"Is she a _fun_ person?" The woman queried. "Is she a _happy_ person? Does she like loud colors?"

"Is she more modest?" The man behind the counter participated. "Is she a woman who likes the finer things?"

"Er..."

"Daisies." An elderly woman suggested, looking away from the flowers she had just been sniffing. "You can't go wrong with daisies."

Sirius looked at the suggested white blooms, prepared to take the aged woman's advice, but found the plant to be too colorless and bland for what he was trying to accomplish. For as much as people might like to assume that Severus was as bland and boring as unbuttered toast, Sirius had come to find that there was far more beneath the stoic surface of her countenance than she liked to let on.

"She has a more...romantic taste." Sirius suddenly realized, thinking of all the lace and antiquated jewelry she was so fond of wearing.

"Roses." The three other inhabitants of the store intoned at once.

" _Pink_ roses." The elderly woman added, gesturing him toward a large display of said blooms.

Dark pink, fat, and fragrant, Sirius found them perfect for his intended apology.

"How many will you be wanted?" The young shopkeeper pressed. "Remember, you said you were in _a lot_ of trouble."

"I'll take three dozen." He decided. "And your prettiest vase."

"Get him some chocolates, too, sonny." The elderly woman advised.

"And your largest box of chocolates." Sirius agreed.


	26. Chapter 26

Severus cried silently as she lay in her nearly-empty bathtub, the abundance of cracks and fractures in the porcelain antiquity having long since deposited the lukewarm water unto the already molding tiles in her cramped bathroom. Having spent the greater part of two hours in trying for a relaxing bath, she swiped angrily at the tears on her burning cheeks and finally surrendered such a loft aspiration. Sitting up, rather slowly so as not to slide about on the slippery tiles, she sighed and meanuvered herself so that her hair was beneath the rusting taps. Because as much as she would have loved to get out and take a short nap, or more realistically a _long_ one, the fact still remained that she had already lathered her hair up in the rather expensive conditioner Narcissa had given her last Christmas. And there wasn't any way her conscience would allow her to squander something that constituted 3 galleons a quarter-sized droplet.

By the time she had finally managed to wash her hair free of the lavender-scented concoction, her arms were aching and almost too sore to run a brush through the sodden locks. In fact, had the conditioner not done its job in smoothing the errant locks, she might have abandoned the quest altogether in her great desire for a nap.

Seeing her hair smooth, after half an hour of labor, Severus then shrugged into a yellow jumper and a black skirt- craving the comfort of such loose garments _more_ than she despised dressing as a Hufflepuff might. For as much as she had ardently protested against all the orders to gain weight, which were _many_ , she had most assuredly already gained five pounds in the last couple months. And while that might not have kept _most_ people from fitting into their clothing, Severus was a woman who liked to keep her trousers and blouses tailored to within an inch of her body. So while a pound or two or water weight was manageable, anything more than that was absolutely ruinous.

Unbidden, thoughts of a strict diet rushed into her head as she worked to mop up the excess water coating her floor. Angry, and rather impatient with such an intrusion, she quickly pushed the troublesome idea from her head with the well-welcomed excuse that she was with child and _expected_ to gain weight. And really, what better excuse could anybody ever have for a little bit of pudginess?

She was just trudging down the corridor, sodden towels in her hand, when a loud knock sounded on her door and caused her to jump. Nobody with all their faculties about them went knocking on doors at Spinner's End, least of all _hers._ Not even the nuns, stubborn and tenacious to a fault, dared to bother her anymore. And, were it Albus who had come to visit, the old man would have simply waltzed right on in without nary a warning.

Suspicious that the O'Leary brothers were again making a game of Knock-and-Run, even after having been coated in literal pig-shit from Gregory Stein next door, Severus scowled and contemplated the ramifications she would face from the Ministry were she to thrust a portion of Burning Weed Powder unto their tiny heads. Eight years old or not, the brothers were already tiny little tyrants of the likes which made the Weasley Twins seem tame and well-behaved.

Foregoing such ammunition in favor of a colorful epitaph, of which she was already concocting in her mind, Severus thundered down the steps and into the living room with a myriad of colorful threats parading through her mind. Merlin help her, she vowed, she would bring about the destruction of those little idiots or else die in the attempt.

She had not expected to find Black on her doorstep, one arm full of an obnoxiously large floral arrangement and the other still raised to deliver another knock.

"What are you doing here?" Severus demanded, perturbed as to how he might have discovered her abode. "How did you find out where I live?"

"May I come in?"

Suddenly _very_ aware of the inferiority of her housing compared to the magnificence of Grimmauld Place, Severus wanted to do nothing more than refuse the man his innocent request. But, as it was, said idiot was inexplicably dressed in muggle finery (genuine silver watch on _full_ display) and all but begging to be mugged.

"Only for a moment." She allowed, stepping aside to let the encumbered man through.

Struggling through the narrow doorway with his arms so full of blooms, Black nearly tripped over an uneven floorboard as he hurried out of the cold. Shivering cartoonishly, Severus watched warily as he shouldered the door closed for her and peeped out at her from behind the flowers with a sheepish grin.

"Where shall I set these?" He questioned, looking helplessly about the small room overrun with books.

"They're _your_ flowers." She grumbled, still on edge. "Set them wherever you'd like."

"They're not _my_ flowers." Black corrected with another dopey grin. "They're _yours_."

Severus, despite herself, felt a jolt of excitement race up her back at the idea of such beautiful roses being _hers_. She had never been given a bouquet before by anyone, after all, _especially_ not by a boy. And while Quincy Jones had given her a yellow carnation on Valentine's Day in their third year, the foul little Ravenclaw had allowed James Potter to boobytrap it with his powerful pimple-spreading cream.

"For _me_?" She repeated, feeling quiet unsure of herself.

"Yes, for _you_." Sirius assured, holding the oversized arrangement toward her. "I brought some chocolates as well, but my hands are quite full."

Caring nothing for the chocolates she was sure were of the gourmet variety she disliked, Severus hurried toward the coffee-table in front of the lumpy couch and began to move carefully move aside stacks of dusty books and loose pages of notes she had scribbled on whatever paper happened to be nearest to her as she experimented with new ideas for potions or spells.

"Here," She directed, "Set them here."

The smiling Gryffindor did as commanded, carefully settling the large bouquet upon the table so as not to damage any of her precious books or notes. Thankful for the consideration, Severus subsequently decided against throwing him out of her house the very moment the flowers had been settled.

"Thank you." She drawled, taking great care not to let her great excitement show.

"Don't get too worked up just yet." Black teased, thrusting an enormous box of chocolates at her. "These are for you, too."

Severus didn't have to work to feign disinterest as she accepted the long rectangle and tossed it unto the lumpy couch. It would have been rude to refuse it, she had decided, and while she knew the candy would not be best utilized with her, the fact still remained that she could regift it when the time game.

"Don't you _like_ chocolate?" Black wondered, having not mistaken her disdain for anything else.

"I prefer my chocolate to be of a non-pretentious variety." She confessed.

"You'd best not let Remus hear you say that." Black advised.

Severus rolled her eyes at the advice, but didn't place as much heat as she would have behind the action. Because if Black was proving himself to reconciliatory, there was no real cause for her to go antagonizing him.

"Why did you come, Black?" She questioned, keeping her tone soft.

"To apologize." He frowned, gesturing at the bouquet.

Severus couldn't conceal the small smile that crept onto her face as she looked at the fragrant blooms, the sensation of having received something so simple unsupressable.

"Apology accepted." She muttered.

"I'm glad to hear that." Black grinned. "Because we have dinner reservations at seven."


	27. Chapter 27

Having not bothered to wait for a reply in the affirmative, Sirius soon began to worry that Severus would _not_ be joining him for supper at the much-coveted table he had reserved at La Cinque in Paris. And while the amount of money it had taken him to confirm such discriminatory seating was in a range most obscene, Sirius's primary concern and disappointment came with assumption that the withdrawn Slytherin was _still_ too anxious around him to accept an innocent invitation to supper. And while Sirius knew that he could not deny that _he,_ alone, was the responsible instigator of such distrust and wariness, such a realization did little to curb his zeal for making amends with the woman he had so wronged.

"Perhaps Monsieur would like to order wine for Madame and himself while he waits?"

Were he not so anxious to not have his food spat in, Sirius would have happily scowled at the priggish waiter and requested he take his pasty French arse elsewhere. For not only had the young employee already proven quite derisive of his person because his French had gone all to rot with disuse, so too had the snobbish man made it abundantly clear that he was operating under the assumptions that Sirius had been stood up.

"My wife will be here shortly," Sirius growled, "And when she _does_ , you may bring us a bottle of your finest red wine."

"Of course, Monsieur." Gavroche intoned, his face emotionless but his eyes full of mockery.

Had he not been within a restaurant largely inhabited by Muggles, Sirius would have slipped free his wand from his pocket and cast a foot-locking charm at the insufferably proud man. As much as he didn't like to reflect on his past behavior, as he had been doing that quite a lot lately, the dark-haired man really did remind Sirius of his former self.

"Monsieur."

Sirius looked away from the menu he was struggling to decipher and found the Head-Waiter before him, Severus all but clinging nervously to his arm as she glanced about at all the finery filling the restaurant.

"Madame has arrived." The somber man intoned.

Rising to his feet, Sirius nodded at his thanks at the emotionless man even as he struggled to will the organ between his legs to behave. For though he had fully expected Severus to dress up for the occasion, he had _not_ anticipated just how dashing she would look that evening. Clad in a lacey rose-pink gown that just _barely_ covered her knees, the blushing Slytherin had also taken care to put her waving locks up into an impossibly elaborate updo.

"Please, be seated, Madame."

To say that Sirius was beyond grateful when the employee himself helped Severus into a chair would be an understatement, and he avowed silently to himself to leave said waiter quite a generous tip for the embarrassment he had unknowingly saved him from. Because try as he might, which was _ardently_ , not even thoughts of Bellatrix could vanquish his arousal.

"You came." He managed, smiling brightly despite the awkwardness he was now feeling.

"I came." She agreed readily enough, looking just as awkward as he felt. "Though I do apologize for being late. I was in the middle of rereading a book and lost track of the time."

"Which book?" Sirius asked, curious as to the inner workings of her mind.

"The Count of Monte Cristo." She educated, patting her well-worn reticule to show him that she had tucked the novel inside.

While he was not as avid a reader as Severus, or even Remus, Sirius was glad to find that the aforementioned book was one he was familiar with, having read it entirely through one endless summer in his third year when his parents had utterly forbade him from even leaving the house after having discovered he was making frequent visits to a Muggle arcade.

"I haven't read that book in ages." Sirius admitted, striving to keep their conversation casual.

"Perhaps I'll have to let you borrow mine once I'm through with it." Severus offered, suspiciously focused on the candles in the centerpiece.

"That would be nice." Sirius allowed, fighting the urge to fiddle with one of the many pieces of silverware laid out before him.

Severus seemed just as restless as he did, judging by the way she fiddled with the series of silver bracelets she'd worn to conceal her Dark Mark. Had this been a date in his youth, one involving privileged trips to Hogsmeade, Sirius might have snatched the trembling fingers and held them gently in his larger hands to lessen the nerves of not only himself, but his date as well. But he found he could not do so now, not with _Severus_ who seemed so averse to any forms of intimacy. No matter how innocent the intentions, Sirius was sure she would go on the defensive, either behaving like a startled cat and lashing out, or else like a cornered hedgehog who withdrew into itself in the desire for protection. No, he thought, it would not do for him to try and _force_ comfortability. Severus was very much like a hippogriff, he realized, and would need to feel respected and safe before she allowed him near.

"Monsieur," Gavroche intoned, interrupted his epiphanies, "The wine."

Severus's large eyes went even wider as the skinny man uncorked the vintage wine and poured out two glasses of the red for them both.

"That is a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild." Severus pipped, suddenly looking very ready to flee the table.

"Oui, Madame." Gavroche agreed, situating the bottle in the center of the table.

"1933." Severus further clarified, looking upon the wine as if it were liquid gold.

Sirius actually had no clue at all as to what had just been poured but, as Severus seemed quite sure of herself, he was much inclined to believe her. And if _her_ convictions were already not enough to convince him of such, Gavroche's impressed face certainly was.

"Oui, Madame." The waiter confirmed, more polite with Severus than he had been aloof with Sirius. "Monsieur has selected our finest red."

That declaration only seemed to further put Severus on edge and, as the intuitive waiter waltzed away to give them space, Sirius feared she might flee the table.

"Black," She whispered, pale cheeks flaming red, "I cannot _afford_ a place like this."

The look on her swollen face was one of pure mortification, and Sirius might have pitied her plight had he not known just how much the woman _loathed_ being pitied. He settled, instead, on compassion and gave her his most nonchalant smile.

"Well, Madame," He drawled in a most obnoxious French manner, "Theee good newz is that thees _is_ a date, and _I_ can."

"Stop." Severus smirked, beginning to relax, "You sound like Fleur."

"Hon, Hon, Hon," Sirius mocked, stroking his beard, "Madame ez not finding mee funny?"

Severus bit down hard upon her bottom lip, slightly smudging the soft pink lipstick as she struggled not to give into her mirth.

"Madame," Sirius snuffed, "Am I _not_ being heelarious?"

"No," Gavroche drawled, sneaking up on Sirius from behind, "You are not, Monsieur."

Having not even seen the waiter's approach, much less heard his footfalls, Sirius nearly yelped in surprise as he startled violently in his seat.

"I don't know about that, Gavroche," Sirius grinned cheekily, "' _Madame_ ' seems amused."

Severus looked affronted at his accusation and tried her hardest to look innocent as the waiter turned accusing eyes unto her. To her great credit, and as Sirius might have expected, the attempt was quite successful.

"Madame looks _ready to order_." Gavroche corrected, mistaking the embarrassed way Severus hid behind her menu for enthusiasm.

"Oh," The pregnant woman blushed, "I suppose I'll have the piperade."

"Excellent, Madame." Gavroche bowed, scribbling the order down in quick cursive. "And Monsieur?" He queried, turning reluctantly to Sirius.

"Er..."

While Sirius had been compelled to learn French by force, the method now seemed quite ineffective as he glanced quickly at the menu in the desperate hopes of locating something he could decipher. And while he _was_ an adventurous eater, the very real fear of accidentally ordering snails resided quite profoundly within him.

"He will have the boef bourguignon." Severus provided, sparing him his embarrassment.

"Excellent, Madame."

As Gavroche hurried off to put in their orders, Sirius racked his brain for the proper translation of what Severus had just ordered.

"Boef bourguignon is basically beef stewed in red wine." Severus provided, sensing his dilemma. "I hope you don't mind me ordering for you."

"I'm glad you did." Sirius assured, sipping his wine. "I was beginning to look like an ass."

Severus cocked a perfectly groomed brow and sipped her own wine.

" _That_ ship set sail the moment you put on that ridiculous French accent."

"Was eet so reediculous?" Sirius demanded, pulling a snobbish face.

"Yees." Severus warbled, rolling her dark eyes.

They both shared a grin at that, and Sirius soon found himself marvelling at just how wondrously her eyes sparkled at such an action. And while he wanted to comment on _exactly_ that, he restrained himself and searched for a less intimate compliment.

"You're wearing the hairpin I gave you." He substituted, feeling immensely flattered.

"Oh...yes." Severus agreed quietly, lightly fingering the jewelry. "I _love_ pearls."

"Good." Sirius blurted, helpless to refrain himself.

Severus cast him a queer look after his odd ejaculation but thankfully let the matter rest, her attention now on a plate of dessert another waiter waltzed by with.

"We'll have to try one of those." Sirius decided, mouth salivating at the sight.

" _You_ might." Severus agreed. "But not _me_. I'm already getting too fat as it is."

Sirius, despite his earlier vows to take things slow, found himself reaching across the table to snatch her thin, little fingers in his own.

"You're pregnant." He reminded her. "You're allowed to get as fat as you wish."

While she had made to jerk her hand away at the initial contact, Severus stilled and calmed when he gave the fingers a little squeeze.

"You're hands are warm." She blabbered, making no move to free her digits from his hold.

" _Yours_ are freezing." Sirius frowned, shrugging out of his jacket.

"Really, there's no need for that, Black."

But it was already too late for protests, not that Sirius would have listened to them anyways. In three large strides he was already beside her, his intentions nothing but pure as he gently pushed aside her long locks and maneuvered the black tuxedo jacket unto slender shoulders.

"Now," Sirius grinned, sinking back to his own seat, "Now that we have _that_ settled, let's work on getting you to call me Sirius. It's not far off from your own name, you know."

"I...I suppose I could do that." She allowed, burrowing into his jacket for warmth.

Sirius was about to tease her for the reluctance when Gavroche returned with their food in tow and placed their respective meals before them. To Severus's credit, _his_ looked more than just a little delicious.

"May I refresh your wine?" The waiter queried, grimacing at Sirius as he tucked into his stew with gusto.

"I had better not." Severus refused, touching the growing swell of her belly.

"Of course not, Madame." Gavroche agreed, turning to Sirius. "Monsieur?"

Mouth full of stew, Sirius shook his head no and shooed the waiter away with a wave of his hand. Clearly disgusted, the offended man stalked off and muttered darkly in French all the while. To enraptured with his food to be insulted, Sirius shrugged off the insults and continued to greedily shovel the stew down his mouth.

"How's yours?" Sirius asked, pausing for breath.

"Delicious." Severus assured, dabbing at her clean chin with a silken napkin. "Would you like to try some?"

Sirius nodded and swiped at his own mouth with a napkin, not nearly as graceful as Severus had been in his attempts to clear his face.

"Here you are." Severus complied, holding a forkful of her dish out to Sirius.

Sirius might have laughed at the way Severus failed to realized just how intimate such a gesture was, but was kept quiet, opting instead to accept a portion of the red morsel into his mouth. Closing his eyes as the flavors ran over his tongue, Sirius seriously considered ordering the dish as a second entree.

"Thank you." He expressed, leaning back into his chair with a moan.

"Would you like another bite?" Severus pressed, already pushing her dish across the table.

"No, no, no." Sirius refused, pushing the dish back toward her. "I need to save room for dessert."

"Will you be having the clafoutis?" She asked, almost shyly.

"Was that what the other table ordered?" Sirius wondered, thinking fondly of the pie-shaped dessert.

"It was." Severus nodded.

"Then yes," He agreed, patting his stomach, "That's what we'll be having."

"We?" Severus asked, no longer suspicious but now amused.

"Let's be honest, here." Sirius requested, patting his belly once more. "I don't think _either_ one of us can finish a dessert on our own. We'll just have to share."

"I suppose that's best." Severus agreed. "We wouldn't want to be wasteful, after all."

Nodding his agreement, Sirius rose from the table and informed the curious Severus that he was going to visit the men's room after finding a waiter to put in their order for dessert. And while he truly _did_ stop a waiter and request he do just that, Sirius also made a few additional requests before dipping into the bathroom to gather his courage.

When he returned to the table twenty minutes later, his face sweaty and his smile forced, Severus understandably embarrassed him by mistaking his absence for stomach troubles and offering him some of the stomach-relaxer she kept in a small vial in her purse. Unwilling to spoil the surprise he had prepared, Sirius accepted the small crystal container and feigned taking a small sip, embarrassed as all hell for his date to have assumed him afflicted with a sour stomach. For while farting was one thing, assumptions of diarrhea were quite another.

Thankfully he did not have long to dwell on his discomfort, for moments later the pastry chef _himself_ came to the table to deliver their dessert on a covered silver tray.

"How elegant." Severus pipped, clearly amused at all the extravagance being paid to the presentation.

Sirius had to dig his nails into his thighs to keep from springing in his seat and ripping off the lid himself, so impatient was he to get to the grand finale of the evening he had been given so little time to prepare for.

"Yes, Madame," The chef agreed with Severus, "I dare say this clafoutis will be the _best_ you've ever had."

"Then by all means, let us see it." Severus implored, caught up in the excitement of the atmosphere the Chef had worked so hard to create.

"Monsieur, are you ready as well?"

"Yes." Sirius croaked, wiping his sweating palms on the knees of his trousers.

With an enormous grin on his whiskered face, the exuberant pastry chef removed the lid with a flourish and stepped back, moving far enough way to be polite but not so far that he kept himself from being a spectator.

Not at all oblivious to the odd behavior, Severus cast a suspicious gleam at the chef and looked fully prepared to demand satisfactory answers for such behavior when the foreign object sticking out for the sweet caught her eye. Clearing fearing the sabotage of the dessert, Severus scowled severely before glaring down at the plate for a better look.

When Severus finally registered that it was a pearl engagement ring sticking out from the delicacy, her dark eyes went wide and her pale hands flew to her mouth in a gesture of abject shock.

"Sirius Black!" She breathed, her face coloring brightly. "Tell me you didn't!"

Encouraged by the way she _wasn't_ thrusting both the ring and dessert in his face, Sirius rose to his feet with a grin and moved to kneel in front of the startled woman. Stealing up both her hands before she could move them away, he gave the fingers a tiny squeeze and looked deeply into her eyes.

"I know we've done things out of order," He began, cheeks burning hotly, "But will you accept this ring as a symbol of my devotion to you?"

"I will." Severus agreed, flushing as pink as her gown as the other diners began to clap.


	28. Chapter 28

Severus moaned softly to herself as she sank ever deeper into the hot water of the sunken tub within the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place, her swollen breasts crying out in relief just as soon as the scented water made contact with them. Closing her heavy eyelids in rapture, she stretched her stiff body out beneath the generous cover of bubbled and nearly wept with relief as the scented oils worked to remove some of the built-up tension from her aching muscles and tendons. _Merlin help her_ , she thought, _she could_ live _in this tub._ It was even better than the prefects bathroom back at Hogwarts, she realized, glancing about at the half-a-hundred retractable taps.

Smiling softly to herself and moving her hands up to message her breasts, Severus looked about the shelving built into the two walls the tub was settled against and searched idly about for a shampoo and conditioner that wouldn't aggravate her slights waves into a curling disaster of frizz and tangles. It was with a small sense of victory that she located the exact same variety of product that Narcissa had gifted to her not too long ago. Fetching the twin bottles down with minimum guilt, Severus then spent the next hour devoted to cleansing her hair, the guilt she experienced in being so liberal with the expensive product only minimal as she highly doubted Black would notice the depletion of such womanly concoctions. And, as it was, _he_ was the one who had insisted she take a nice long soak.

She was just rinsing some errant soap out of her eyes, having carelessly allowed some lavender oil into her sensitive ducts, when a sharp knock sounded on the bathroom door and startled her out of the calm stupor she had managed to enter into. Assuming the knocker to be Black, and thus subsequently expecting him to barge in as he had done before, she scowled and sank down into the water all the way up to her chin.

"Mistress!" Kreacher croaked, full of reverent reproach. "You must not be staying too long in such hot water! It is not being good for the baby! And Master is thinking you are having been drowned!"

While Severus would have loved nothing more than to spend the remainder of the evening fully submerged, she could not help but see the reason in Kreacher's warnings. For it had been a full two hours since she had begun her soak, and most men, no matter the species, were not privy to the great enjoyment all woman felt for their jaunts in a tub.

"I will be out presently." Severus sighed, already using her toe to drain the tub.

"Kreacher will be back in ten minutes!" The Elf warned, retreating unnecessarily loudly.

Taking the words as more of a threat than suggestion, Severus hastily retreated from the tub and slipped on the oversized shirt Black had lended to her for the night. Relieved to find the faded white shirt covered more than just her knees, as she felt a certain degree of modesty was still called for, she slipped on her bloomers and and trodded barefoot into the bedroom in pursuit of the brush she kept in her purse. She nearly yelped in surprise when she saw Black lying atop the bed, his nose in a rather thick book filled with pictures of motorcycles.

"There you are," He smiled, never once turning away from his book. "I was fully prepared to send in a search party."

"So Kreacher warned me." She droned, sauntering over to the armoire and removing the brush from her bag.

Seating herself on the delicate little stool situated before the mirror, she then flipped her hair to one side and carefully began the tedious process of brushing out her hair. An arduous process, indeed, as pregnancy had not only unnecessarily thickened her hair but depleted her energy reserves as well.

"Are you looking to buy a new bike, Bla-Sirius?" She asked, more polite than curious.

"I've been looking for awhile." He admitted, fixating on a picture that had been circled multiple times in red marker. "The right bike just hasn't come around yet."

"Does the bike chose the wizard?" Severus questioned, her humor dry but not mocking.

"Of course it does." Sirius replied seriously. "Have you never been on one?"

Though Severus would have _loved_ to have been invited to ride on the back of Josiah Wike's bike like Greta Brown and Lucy Jones, the thought of being on a motorcycle _now_ (while pregnant and sore) did not appeal to her in any sense of the word.

"I've never been on one, no." She confirmed, working carefully at a small knot.

"I'll tell you what." Sirius said, crawling off the bed. "As soon as I buy my bike, you'll be the first one on it."


	29. Chapter 29

Severus lay lazily reclined against a mound of pillow in the bed she now shared with Sirius Black, her eyelids heavy and half-closed as she worked to finish the delicate embroidery on the yellow robe she had just finished sewing for her Father's upcoming birthday. And while she would have prefered to _not_ be putting the finishing touches on the clothing only four days before the event itself, Severus had been forced by necessity into spending the larger portion of all last week letting out the seams in her _own_ clothing.

"You'll go cross-eyed doing all that needlework." Sirius warned, coming into the bedroom with a resigned grimace on his face.

"You sound like Lily." Severus accused mildly, still working even as she looked away from her cotton canvas.

"I've never been accused of _that_ before." The unsmiling man informed, gracelessly collapsing unto the bed with his boots still on.

Too exhausted _herself_ to request that the Gryffindor remove his sullied boots, Severus sighed inwardly and made a mental note to change the bedding on the bed for the _fourth_ time that week.

"Why so glum?" She queried, tying off an impossible small knot with her nimble fingers.

"Harry still won't speak with me." The animagi bemoaned, burying his bearded face in the golden quilt. "And neither will Remus, apparently."

While Severus could not help but sympathize with the young Potter, given the way in which his birthday festivities had ended, her disdain for the werewolves sullen behavior could not help but rear its ugly head. For while she had no doubt that discovering one's mate had been married via newspaper was upsetting, if not admittedly insulting, the fact still remained that he was a grown man acting a petulant child. At least where _Harry_ was involved, the excuse of youth could be given.

"They will have to forgive you soon enough." Severus reasoned. "Lupin _lives_ with you, after all, and I am _sure_ Harry will not want to return to Hogwarts without making peace with his Godfather."

"I really don't think _I'm_ the one who needs forgiving." Sirius grumbled, his voice half-obscured by a mound of fabric.

"You cannot blame them for the things they said while upset." Severus asserted, knowing better than anyone else just how true that was.

While Harry referring to her as, 'just some bint' his Godfather had taken up the Duff,' had certainly wounded her to the quick, Severus had by far found Lupin's thinly-veiled assertions of her having _plotted_ to entrap his mate with a baby far more insulting given his age and supposed maturity. But, even then, she had allowed the insults to slide - her desire not to intervene in family matters just as strong as her desire not to lose the begrudging truce she had only just forged with the father of her child.

"Harry shouldn't have spoken to you that way." Sirius persisted. "Lily would have _never_ allowed it, nor would James."

While Severus was of the learned opinion that the elder Potter would have actually _joined in_ with the bashing of her person, she held her tongue and thought of ways in which might change the subject of elsewise sooth her frazzles husband's nerves.

"It's _true_." Sirius asserted, having caught her fleeing look of disbelief. "He wanted Harry to be a gentleman."

"Harry has quite a lot going on in his life right now." Severus reminded the man. "And he's only _just_ turned fourteen. It's only natural he's struggling to adapt to this change."

"Well," Sirius grumbled, searching for a retort, "What excuse does _Remus_ have?"

While it was a _much_ better question, Severus remained unthwarted.

"I think _you_ , of all people, should know just how stressful it is dealing with an expectant woman." She smirked, drumming her fingers against the rising swell of her belly.

"That may be so," Sirius allowed, rolling over to face her, "But you don't see _me_ snapping at Tonks without reason."

"Well," Severus frowned, "We haven't exactly been fighting as much as they have."

Though the Lupin's took great care to conceal their rows within their bedroom, both Severus and Sirius were more than unlucky enough to have stumbled upon the newly-married couple as the bickered spontaneously in the corridors and snapped at each other in the living room and kitchen. And while the discomfort of witnessing such a familiar phenomenon had seen her hiding up in the master bedroom more often than not, Severus could not help but feel the chiliness in the air whenever she left the bedroom in pursuit of Sirius or food.

"I _told_ him she wasn't his type." Sirius growled, crawling up the bed to lay beside her.

"There are _many_ people saying the same about us." Severus stated pointedly.

"If they bothered saying it to my face there would be _less_ people saying it." Sirius scowled, snatching up one of her hands as she stilled her needlework.

"Don't go getting yourself locked back up in Azkaban." Severus warned. "Our child needs you." She added, placing his hand on her belly.

Grinning like a fool, Sirius caressed her stomach as he relaxed into his own mound of pillows. Still slightly uncomfortable with such intimacy, especially so where it involved violations of her modesty, Severus blushed and thought to start anew a conversation.

"You should take Harry to the Quidditch match tomorrow." Severus decided, not looking at the father of her child as she fiddled with his fingers. "He might really enjoy that," She prattled, "And maybe then he won't feel so...put aside."

"Do you really think that's what is bothering Harry?" Sirius asked. "Feeling left out?"

"Knowing Petunia, he's very likely grown up feeling set aside in favor of others." Severus rationalized. "It's only natural he thinks the baby will replace him."

Sighing loudly, Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head at his own ignorance.

"I'll never be able to get tickets now." He bemoaned. "We'll have to do something else."

"I've already had Lucius secure two for me." Severus grinned, rolling onto her side to face her husband. "I had planned on giving them to Harry as a gift before...well, before the fighting started."

Not wanting to be accused of bribing the boy into forgiving her, she had tucked the exclusive tickets away into her nightstand drawer, a compartment in which Sirius never deigned to enter after she had claimed it as her own.

"Merlin," Sirius grinned, pressing his forehead against hers, "Am I _ever_ glad I chose you as a wife."


	30. Chapter 30

Sirius watched, amused, as Dumbledore and Severus worked to put the finishing touches on the enormous sand castle they had inexplicably managed to construct without magic, the former working on creating a moat while the latter labored to stick flags of the Slytherin color into the impossibly high turrets. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her bare toes dig into the sand as she rose on their tips for some much needed height, the hem of her long emerald sundress creeping up just a few inches to reveal her milky thighs.

Padding out of the ocean he had just been swimming in, Sirius carefully made his way through the small crowed that had gathered to watch the erection of the sandy castle. Smiling a greeting at his sandy wife, which went largely unnoticed as she worked to add a much-needed window to a neglected wall, he plopped himself down in the sand and looked up in admiration at their handiwork. Not only was his wife an impeccable housekeeper, having managed to render Grimmauld Place back to its former glory in only two weeks, so too was she a magnificent artist. Yes, Sirius thought, he had been lucky indeed.

"Well, Lamb," Dumbledore said, as water came pouring into his moat, "What do you think?"

"I think it is our best yet." Severus agreed, stepping back to admire her work.

Having not seen his approach, despite the overall clumsiness of it, she tripped over Sirius's thigh and fell into his awaiting lap, the blow cushioned only by the way in which he had taken great care to maneuver her as she fell.

"Looks like I got the catch of the day." He flirted, brushing the hair away from her eyes.

"I just saw a man wrangle in a fish the size of your arm." She blushed, pulling her head away from his.

"I wasn't speaking of size." Sirius corrected, moving his head nearer to hers again.

"I know." She assured, moving awkwardly to close the gap.

For a long moment, they just stared into each other's eyes, the both of them much too nervous to make any other moves. It was only as Sirius recovered enough to realize that he wanted to kiss her, and was in fact moving to do so, that Dumbledore turned and spotted them in their compromising situation.

"Well," Albus coughed, "I do believe it's time for some lunch, don't you?"

Thus said, he made his way over to the large picnic basket he had brought, his wrinkled feet purposely stepping unto Sirius's outstretched fingers as he did so. Flinching at the surprising amount of pressure the boney feet managed to place on his digits, Sirius scowled and bit down on his bottom lip to keep from cursing the old man.

"I had better go and help him." Severus reluctantly decided, clumsily rising to her feet.

"Of course." Sirius agreed, just as reluctant as she to be parted.

Not wanting to make himself a nuisance, Sirius sat back and watched as Severus and Dumbledore worked to spread out an overly large periwinkle picnic basket, each of them taking great care to make sure their portion was level and wrinkle-free. It was only once they were both mutually satisfied that they began to lay out the food. Quite peckish, as well as desiring a spot close to his wife, Sirius hurried over to the blanket and pulled said woman down beside him.

"Oh." She breathed, landing loudly on her bottom.

"Everything looks delicious." Sirius appraised, glancing at the small feast.

Though it was just to be the three of them, the tiny Slytherin had taken great care to provide a mouthwater variety of both food and dessert- the most tantalizing of those being, of course, the small pan of fudge brownies she had spent a full hour laboring over.

"Yes," Albus interrupted, his frown petulant, "My Severus is quite the cook, isn't she?"

Neither of them oblivious to the unpleasant tone in the older man's voice, they sat silently and awkwardly, neither of them sure of how to proceed without aggravating the aged Gryffindor any further.

"Let me fix you a plate." Severus suddenly spoke, already rising on her knees.


	31. Chapter 31

Albus smiled contently as he walked side-by-side with his daughter in the settling dusk, content enough for the moment to ignore the black-haired animagi that had tagged along on their brief hike for ice cream. While he wanted nothing more than for the energetic aristocrat to stay behind on the pretext of 'guarding' his cottage, both he and his daughter had protested endlessly as the suggestion, the latter going so far as to threaten the withholding of her cooking from him for the remainder of the weekend. Sensing then that the battle had been lost, and victory not at all possibly reclaimed, Albus had surrendered the fight and begrudging invited the younger Gryffindor along for the short journey.

All in all, Albus was well-pleased to find the Marauder taking great care to behave himself as they strolled along, his energy still quite boisterous but nowhere near as obnoxious as it might have been. In fact, the only irritating behavior the man was currently displaying was the way in which he persisted walking shoulder to shoulder with Severus, his hand every now and then inching dangerously close to her own.

Perhaps even more vexing for Albus was the way in which his daughter seemed to wordlessly _encourage_ the behavior, her dark eyes modestly downcast but her small smile more than just a little inviting as she allows her fingers to brush against those of her husband. Catching the vibrant gleam in her dark eyes as they passed beneath the light of a streetlamp, Albus frowned, scarcely able to believe (much less tolerate) the amount of openness his young spy was displaying. Why, just last year the withdrawn young woman would have _blushed_ at the suggestion she accompany a man for an evening stroll not to mention wilted at the thought of handholding.

"You really ought not be walking barefoot, Lamb." Albus lectured mildly, looking nervously upon a discarded fishing hook someone had carelessly left lying on the sidewalk.

"My ankles are still swollen." She groused, making no move to reclaim her sandals from Sirius. "And the grass is more than soft enough for me."

"If you would like," Sirius flirted shamelessly, "I would be _than_ happy to carry you the rest of the way."

Before Albus had a chance to heatedly declare that he would do _no_ such thing, Severus spoke up and gave an answer Albus found satisfactory if not a but flirtatious.

"I think _not_ , Mr. Black." His daughter gently refused, dabbing at her sweaty brow with a silver handkerchief. "Although I cannot promise to continue rebuffing the offer whereas our return trip is concerned."

Though his daughter had never been one to complain, no matter how severe her ailment, Albus frowned in sympathy at her remark as he knew the flippancy to be carefully feigned. Perhaps it had not been a good idea, after all, for him to have encouraged her to participate in their annual jaunt to Hazel's Ice Cream Parlor. For while both of them were more than just a little accustomed to absurdly long walks, the fact still remained that a meagre mile really wasn't all that measly for a pregnant woman.

"I should not have made you walk all this way." Albus apologized, most heartily. "Shall we turn back?"

"We shall do no such thing." Severus declared passionately, her desire for a mint chocolate chip cone _vastly_ outweighing the discomfort of her ankles.

"But are you not uncomfortable?" Albus fussed, wondering how far he could press the matter without irritating his daughter.

"Were it not for this _damnable_ heat, I would be perfectly well." Severus assured, tugging a damp strand of sweaty hair away from her flushed cheek.

In truth, it was the stubborn woman's own damn fault she was sweltering, as she had self-consciously refused to remove the heavy sundress from her person and walk to the ice cream parlour in her bathing suit as the rest of her group was currently doing. But fully understanding her dilemma, as her body was riddled quite heavily in scars far too old to be removed, as well as her belly having rapidly swelled with pregnancy, Albus kept quiet and let the matter rest- knowing all too well that a pressured Severus would balk and snap at those who needled her. Unfortunately for him, Black seemed to have learned no such thing about his 'wife.'

"You know," The audacious Gryffindor grinned, "I would be _more_ than happy to hold your dress for you if you wished to cool yourself off."

Albus bristled at the innocent suggestion, despite knowing, as he did, that his daughter was fully clothed in a bathing suit beneath the dress. Severus, for her part, blushed hotly and steadied her gaze upon the sidewalk, entirely refusing to make eye contact with either of the men flanking her.

"I _cannot_." She breathed, nowhere near as indignant as she might have been.

"Why ever not?" Sirius queried, his feigned innocence aggravating.

"You know why." Severus frowned, still refusing eye contact.

If he had been a smarter man, the younger Gryffindor would have left it at that, Severus's discomfort perfectly clear and palpable to anybody with a semi-functioning brain. But, as it was, the animagi was still a Marauder at heart and unable to let a matter rest until he had reached satisfaction.

"You don't need to worry that people will stare." The bearded man assured. "It's a dark night and nobody is out."

"You cannot possibly know that." Severus argued, looking apprehensively at all the other cottages lining the sidewalk.

"Well," Sirius grinned, siddling closer to her, "Even _if_ somebody was about, I'd break their jaw if they dared stare at you."

"How chivalrous." Severus stated, her humor dry but her tone flattered.

Almost as if she were bolstering herself, for Merlin knew what, Severus glanced once more at the houses lining their path. Finding the majority of them with their bedroom lights on, as well as their curtains pulled for the evening, she seemed to relax a fraction.

"I...I suppose I could be without my dress for a moment of two."

To Albus's great bewilderment, Severus then shrugged off her sweat-dampened dress and tossed it unto Sirius's outstretched arm, revealing the snug red bikini she had not found time to let out. Sirius, to his credit, only stared a little at the swollen breasts before remembering his manners and looking away.

"You _will_ tell me if you catch someone staring, won't you?" She fussed.

"Yes."

Though they answered in tandem, it was Sirius she smiled at.


	32. Chapter 32

Sirius groaned as he stretched out on the tiny loveseat, his sleeping quarters for the night proving more than just a little uncomfortable given his tall stature and wide shoulders. Feet hanging over one armrest, and nearly brushing the floor, he briefly contemplated giving the floor a try before turning his head away from the ceiling and refocusing his attention on the rerun of Wheel of Fortune playing on the television.

"The Queen's Jubilee." Came a soft drawl behind him.

Grunting loudly as he sat up to greet his wife, Sirius peered behind the couch with a weary, but genuine, smile.

"Why are you still up?" He wondered, glancing at his watch. "It's late."

Assuming it was yet another bout of heartburn, Sirius rose to his feet and prepared to shuffle into the kitchen to find some chocolate for his wife. But before he could so much as take three steps, the Slytherin stepped in front of him, barring his passage to the small kitchen.

"I don't have any heartburn at the moment." She assured, correctly duducing his plans.

"Then why are you up?" He pestered, concerned her morning sickness might have made a comeback.

"I couldn't sleep without you snoring next to me." Severus confessed, her smile shy but her eyes desirous.

Though Dumbledore was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead, Sirius quickly realized her dilemma, having found himself missing _her_ snoring as well. Wanting to convey that exact same message, without the awkwardness of his unrefined vocabulary, he moved forward and grabbed up her hands in his.

"I could sleep just outside your door." He offered. "Dumbledore couldn't possibly object to _that_."

All things considered, the floor would very likely be more comfortable then the cramped and overly firm couch cushions he had been allowed for the night. And, better yet, if he slept just outside his wife's bedroom he would be able her breathing and gleam some comfort from it.

"I have a better idea." The spy breathed, her words very nearly lost in the din of Dumbledore's snoring.

"Enlighten me." Sirius requested, stepping closer.

"You could join me." She whispered, closing her eyes. "In my bed."

Sirius felt his pajama bottoms tighten at the suggestion, and he quickly thought of Bellatrix to keep his body from embarrassing him. But, even then, it was hard for him to maintain control as his wife was now only a hair's breadth away from him.

"What of Dumbledore?" He questioned, mouthing the last word for fear the Headmaster would sense his name be spoken and rise.

"Daddy doesn't need to know." She assured, dark eyes twinkling mischievously.

Though he knew he should agree to no such thing, every sense in Sirius's body was crying out for him obey the wishes of his temptress.

"Far be it from me to deny my wife anything." Sirius grinned back, daring to kiss her cheek.

Severus flushed wondrously at the contact, one pale hand escaping his grasp to touch the cheek his lips had touched. Holding it there, almost reverently, she brought her dark eyes up to meet his gaze, the expression housed within so trusting and open Sirius could scarcely believe it was his wife making it.

"Come along, now." She implored, pulling him along by his hand.

Sirius followed along obediently, taking great care not to walk too loudly as they trailed up the stairwell toward the bedrooms. Thankful that the corridor was not overly long, he was subsequently grateful when he soon found himself pulled into Severus's bedroom, finding the quarters quite safe despite their proximity to Dumbledore's own bedroom.

"You _do_ promise to keep you father from murdering me if he finds us like this, don't you?"

"He will not discover us." Severus assured, gracefully maneuvering her wand about the room.

As his wife worked to soundproof the bedroom, Sirius took the liberty of glancing about the small bedroom and taking its decorum. Despite the buttery yellow walls, which were very clearly done to the Headmaster's taste, he found the room exactly as one might have expected belonging to the tiny Occlumens. Nightstand littered with a tiny stack of well-worn books, as well as a dented portable cauldron settled in the corner, Sirius had no trouble at all believing it was she who slept within the room. Even the rose-pink bedspread, impossibly thick and lacey, seemed to scream out such a confirmation.

"There we are." Severus announced, setting aside her wand on the window sill.

"There we are." Sirius agreed, suddenly nervous as he took in the size of the bed.

Having grown accustomed to sleeping with a pile of pillows betwixt them in his king-sized bed, the new prospect of sharing a full-sized bed both aroused and frightened him. For though he wished for nothing more than to press himself against her, he knew full-well that Severus did not very much enjoy being touched.

"You must crawl in first." Severus decided. "For the bed is much smaller than we are accustomed to."

Sensing the wisdom in the words, Sirius shuffled over to the bed and quickly slipped beneath the blankets and sheets, sighing relatedly when he found the fabric to be a cool cotton and not of the variety of heavy silks that plagued Grimmauld Place.

"I am coming to join you now." Severus warned, slipping beneath the blankets beside him.

Though neither of them were large people, by any sense of the word, Sirius couldn't help but wrap a protective arm about her waist to keep her from spilling out of the bed. To his relief, Severus leaned into his clumsy embrace, her chilly body pressing impossibly close to his chest and legs. And, just when he thought he could no longer tolerate such temptation, her slender hand crept down and pressed itself against his manhood.

"Daddy doesn't need to know."


	33. Chapter 33

Severus, despite her great efforts, soon found that she could not wake the loudly snoring man in her bed when the hour before dawn came and was growing quite desperate about the fact before remembering that her Father would rise in an hour and make his way downstairs- all without bothering to peek into her bedroom as he knew her to be an early riser. If Sirius was clever, of which she was steadily become more sure of, he would simply hop into the shower when he rose and solidify himself an alibi for having not been found asleep on the sofa.

So assured was she with her _own_ cleverness, that the sight of her father standing in the kitchen nearly unnerved her. Waiting patiently for the kettle to boil for his tea, the elderly man reclined against a counter with his pink robe opened to reveal a nightgown of the same color, the signature twinkle in his blue eyes returned and a small smile on his wrinkled face.

Relieved to find her father returned to his usual humor, after having endured the last few months of quite the opposite, Severus awarded him with a smile and sauntered over to the fridge so that she might begin to prepare breakfast. Spotting a large carton of eggs, bought by the impulsive Mugwump who had no real understanding of the shelf-life of food, she decided then and there that she would make up some fried eggs and pancakes before the food went to waste.

"I trust you slept well, Lamb?" Albus queried, removing the kettle from the stove the moment it began to whistle.

Grateful to still be hidden by the refrigerator door, Severus bit her lip hard before deigning to reply.

"I slept well, yes." She confirmed, still comfortably sore from the rumpus of last night.

Her father did not make eye contact with her as she reemerged with the eggs, his focus now set on preparing the coffee-maker for his daughter's usual morning coffee. Grateful for such a small mercy, she trodded barefoot to the cupboard below the sink and removed a large griddle. It was only once she had removed a large egg from its carton, that Albus designed to speak.

"Yes," He mused fondly, seating himself at the table to inexplicably enjoy the local newspaper, "I suppose one _does_ sleep rather well when they share their bed with another."

Despite herself, Severus squeaked loudly and crushed the egg in her grasp.

"Whatever do you mean?" She demanded, nervously swiping her hands on a yellow dish towel.

"Do not play the fool, Lamb." Her father chided gently. "It does not become you."

Now completely assured that her Father was back to being himself, Severus found herself more annoyed than embarrassed to find that her spells had somehow failed her.

"How could you _possibly_ have discovered that I allowed Sirius into my room?" She demanded, still bewildered by the way in which her father seemed to know everything.

"Forgive me my Candor," Albus blushed, "But you two were _not_ , by any means, quiet."

Where the failure of her silencing wards had previously annoyed Severus, they now absolutely mortified her as they had failed to prevent her father from hearing her 'encourage' Sirius's evening performance.

"Forgive me," She pleaded, hiding her face with her hair, "I thought my wards would be more than adequate to prevent you any...discomfort."

"Silly girl," Albus chuckled, "You ought to have known I placed ward-prevention spells about the place when I bought it."

Unfairly indignant at the confession, Severus vowed to burn a pancake for the first time and serve it to her father.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"I wished to keep the ministry from spying on me." He shrugged. "But had I known then that I would have daughter who wished to...'know' her husband, I would have made some allowances."

Feeling her cheeks burn at the immodest remark, Severus clumsily flipped a pancake and frowned as her fingers brushed against the hot burner.

"Careful, old man." She cautioned, frowning petulantly. "One more remark of that sort, and I'll leave the cooking of breakfast to you."

Only being an adequate cook at best, having found the task to be more of a chore than a hobby, Albus held up his hands in surrender and turned his focus back unto his tea and newspaper.

"What's this I hear of no breakfast?" Sirius demanded, waltzing into the kitchen with his hair still wet from the shower.

"Your fellow Gryffindor wishes to vex me into going on strike." She tattled, brandishing an accusatory spatula at the older man.

"That sounds more the trait of a Slytherin, if you ask me." Sirius commented, seating himself safely across the table from Dumbledore.

Thinking she might have to burn a whole batch of pancakes just to prove a point, Severus smirked mischievously and ran a hand over her belly.

"Will you be making such remarks when your daughter is sorted into Slytherin?" She ribbed, playfully antagonizing.

As expected, both men began to give boisterous proclamations as to why such a thing could not possibly be so, the younger indignant and the elder quite steadfast in his denials. Allowing the flimsy arguments to occur, as they were not at all as insulting as they might have been, Severus easily rebutted them and gave forth her own flimsy evidences for the child being born a Slytherin; those being the way in which said child seemed to needle her until certain cravings were satisfied and an innate sense in which Severus just _knew_ it to be so.

The debate finally got to such a point, and length, that Sirius, stomach grumbling quite loudly, ardently declared that it, 'mattered not which house his child was sorted in, just so long as he well-fed enough to bare it.' Taking the hint, and relieved for such an easy end to a spirited debate, Severus quickly deposited the fluffiest of the pancakes unto her husband's plate.


	34. Chapter 34

As that evening there was to be an Order Meeting at Grimmauld Place, Molly fretted quite miserably about the kitchen, checking once, then twice to make sure she had made enough food for all those who were to attend the customary pre-meeting supper. And while her meals had never failed to be pleasing for those who partook, the fact still remained that she wanted the supper to be especially lovely as Sirius and Severus would surely be celebrating the fact that they had, just hours ago, discovered the gender of their baby. And even though the majority of the organization could not possibly care less about a pregnancy that wasn't their own, much less that of a woman they found incorrigible, Molly had found herself taking on a motherly role towards the woman and was absolutely determined to see her happiness celebrated.

"Mum," Ginny called out, looking away from the potatoes she had been forced to peel for penance of a sassy mouth, "Your sauce is bubbling over."

Scurrying over the stove, Molly found, indeed, that her sauce was very dangerously near to spilling over unto the burners. Quickly turning down the heat, as well as giving the spaghetti sauce a quick stir, the harried woman quickly turned back to making sure her meatballs were properly browning.

"Isn't this enough potatoes for tomorrow, yet?" Ginny groused, gesturing at the large pile collected in a bin at her feet.

Distracted by her only daughter's fussing, Molly burned a careless finger on the frying pan and sharply uttered a curse. Amused at her mother's uncharacteristic outburst, Ginny giggled loudly and made no efforts to conceal her mirth until Molly glared at her and waved a wooden spoon in her direction.

"Go on!" She shooed the errant girl. "Go and have the Twins set the table."

"What have _they_ done?" Ginny demanded, quick to defend any brother that wasn't Ron or Percy.

"Never you mind that," Molly scolded, waving her from the room, "Just do as I've asked."

Sighing loudly, but daring too talk back after serving so long a penance in the corner of the kitchen, Ginny fled from the room with great haste- hollering loudly for her brothers all the while. Now exasperated, as all the yelling woke Walburga from her nap, Molly shook her head and quickly checked on the garlic bread baking in the oven. If her timing was right, and it very nearly _always_ was, supper would be served precisely at six. She only hoped that Severus and Sirius would arrive in time for the affair she had planned entirely for their benefit.

Given that the Magical Community had not yet devised a way in which to accurately determine the gender of a baby while in utero, the newly wed couple had arranged for an appointment to be had at a Muggle clinic Molly had never heard of- their last minute decision having caused them to secure the late appointment time of half-past-four despite Severus much preferring such events to be held in the morning.

Molly was just beginning to fear that they would not show, some inexplicable tragedy having befallen the baby, when the distinct sounds of apparition filled the kitchen. Filled with no small about of trepidation, she spun on her heels and was well pleased to find the couple both wearing painfully large grins. Utterly exuberant, and paying but little heed to their audience, the black-haired duo beamed widely at each other and looked dangerously close to taking each other right there in the kitchen. Wanting to avoid any such awkwardness, Molly coughed softly so as to alert them to her presence.

They broke apart with mutual blushes, having very clearly failed to notice her presence upon their arrival. But quickly discovering her to be their only company, they soon relaxed and were once more pressed against each other, with Sirius's arm placed protectively about his wife's expanding waist and Severus's head resting sweetly on his chest. The scene very reminiscent of the way she and Arthur had rejoiced upon learning they were expecting Bill, Molly smiled fondly and couldn't help but ponder how unbelievable such a sight would have been only four months ago.

"You must tell me the good news at once!" Molly exclaimed, positively giddy with excitement.

"A girl!" Severus breathed, clinging closer to her husband. " _Just_ like I expected!"

"A girl!" Sirius echoed, pressing his fingers against her belly.

Molly could not help but squeal aloud at the joyous news, having lately felt herself quite overrun with men and their accompanying testosterone. With six teenaged boys, seven if one counted Harry, and a daughter much inclined towards fits of tomboyishness, it seemed there had been no adequate amounts of estrogen within her company to equalize such an unfair balance. And though she was glad, very glad indeed, that she would soon have a baby boy to fuss over, her excitement at knowing she would not have to wait too much longer for a girl threatened to overwhelm her.

"Oh! I am _so_ very glad for you!" Molly trilled, freeing Severus from her husband's grasp and wrapping her in a tight hug of her own.

While the younger woman stiffened at the unexpected hug, she soon relaxed enough to allow herself to return the pressure, her movements clumsy but well-meaning, if not warm in their own way. Seeing the freedom from his wife as a fortuitous event, Sirius seized the opportunity provided him and marched from the kitchen, loudly proclaiming for all to hear that he was going to be the father of a girl. As polite clapping carried into the kitchen from the dining room, Molly looked in concern upon the expectant woman, fearing she might feel put at having not been allowed to announce the news herself.

"I told him he could share the news with the Order in any way he saw fit." Severus assured, correctly divining Molly's dilemma. "Though I do wish he had chosen a different method." She added, flinching as Walburga began her screeching anew.

"You didn't want a gender-reveal party, did you?" Molly fretted, worrying she had incorrectly acted on behalf of the shy woman.

Severus pulled a face so genuinely disgusted, that Molly's doubt soon faded, replaced instead her earlier joviality.

"I care not for such nonsense." Severus assured. "Why anyone might need a cake to announce the gender of their baby is beyond me. I think I shall be quite contented, indeed, with a simple baby shower when the time comes."


	35. Chapter 35

Having found the muted celebrations of his pregnant wife both wanting and unacceptable, as well as the following Order meeting _beyond_ taxing, the very last thing SIrius wanted to do was confront the petulant teenager in his custody for having steadfastly refused to attend such a lackluster supper. No, he reflected, he would _much_ rather join his wounded wife in bed, a place in which he might both soothe and be soothed in return. But, as matters currently stood, the obstinate child in question was in _his_ care and Sirius had a familial duty to see to the boy and, if matters called for it, discipline him as well for his rudeness in having angrily refused the celebratory supper. For while it was not _required_ that Harry share in his happiness, though Sirius did wish most ardently that he _would_ , the fact still remained that Molly had gone to great lengths to prepare her feast and was, understandably, quite put out by the young teenager's failure to appear at the table.

Knocking just once on Harry's door, and receiving no answer in return, Sirius waited a full minute before pushing into the teenager's room - wishing to give the boy some measure of privacy before barging in. As he expected, he found his Godson lying in bed, a large maroon pillow pressed childishly over his face to keep him from seeing his Godfather. Sighing at the icy reception, as he missed his clingy Harry more than words could ever convery, Sirius shut the door before walking over to the large bed and seating himself at its food.

"Harry-" He began, only to find himself interrupted.

"I'm sleeping." His ward groused, pressing the pillow even tighter against his face.

"I didn't hear any snoring." Sirius refuted, resting a hand on Harry's knee.

Not amused, the young Gryffindor shrugged his knee away.

" _You're_ the one that snores."

While he wanted to quip that Severus was the real bear when it came to snoring, Sirius wisely refrained as he highly doubted Harry was in the mood to be reminded of just how intimate his godfather was with his former, and much loathed, professor.

"I missed you at supper." Sirius informed, trying to coax the boy into a conversation.

Harry just snorted, and made to remove Sirius from the bed by pushing at his things with his stockinged foot. Not wishing to yell at the formerly neglected boy, but also wishing to put a stop to the behavior before any bruises could form, Sirius sighed once more and seized the rouge foot in his hand.

"It's true." Sirius persisted, keeping a firm grip on his Godson's twitching appendage.

"Why _would_ you?" Harry demanded, struggling to yank his foot free. "You had _Snape_ with you."

"Yes," Sirius agreed, giving the boy's toes a squeeze, "But I wanted my _Godson_ there, too."

When Harry next spoke, after a very long pause, his voice was small and thick with tears.

"You won't once the baby comes."

Having long assumed the teenager's jealousy pertained to Severus, the mumbled confession threw Sirius off-guard.

"Harry," He frowned, full of sympathy, "The baby will be joining this family, _our_ family, as an _addition._ Not as a replacement for you."

"But the baby will be _yours_." Harry managed, sniffling loudly. " _All_ yours."

"She will be." Sirius confirmed. "But so are you. I had hoped you'd know that by now."

When Harry didn't snort derisively, Sirius took the silence as permission to speak.

"I made a promise to your parents, Harry, to keep you safe and look after you as my own if something happened to them. I might have young back then, maybe even immature, but I meant it when I made that oath. I'd never been so serious in all my life." Giving the toes another squeeze, he pressed forward. "I _know_ you feel as if you're being replaced, but I _assure_ you, it just isn't so. I escaped _Azkaban_ for you, for Merlin's sake, and I would do it all again just to have you."

There was a long silence, and then-

"It's a _girl_?" The teenager pressed, sounding slightly disappointed. "Are you sure?"

Sirius chuckled, and pulled the pillow away from his Godson's face, revealing a set of very red eyes.

"We're sure." Sirius confirmed. "I could show you the ultrasound picture if you'd like."

As Harry sat up and crawled across the bed to sit beside him, Sirius pulled out a copy of the paper and held it up for his Godson to look at.

" _That's_ the baby?" Harry queried, frowning in much the same manner Sirius had upon first seeing the grey shapes.

"I've been told it is." Sirius laughed, poking his finger at the paper. "See, _that_ right there is the head. And _this_ ," He educated, "Is a leg."

"It's blocking the babies... _stuff_." Harry blushed. "Are you _sure_ it's a girl?"

"I'm sure." Sirius confirmed. "She moved her leg a bit during the scan and we _definitely_ didn't see a-"

Harry was spared his Godfather's bluntness by a sharp rapping on the door, the sound soft but easily identifiable.

"It's Severus." He informed Harry. "Shall we let her in?"

The boy seemed hesitant, but eventually nodded his head.

As it turned out, they were both in for a treat, as the expectant Slytherin had brought a tray of food and sweets for the both of them.


	36. Chapter 36

Severus smiled softly to herself as she cradled the three-week-old infant in her arms, the sweet smells radiating from the slumbering "Teddy" both calming and invigorating. Clutching the premature bundle closer as he hiccuped in his sleep, as she wished to stave off a crying fit, she hummed softly and inwardly swooned as the thought that she, _herself,_ would soon have a child in her arms filtered into her mind. _Thirteen weeks_ , she recited to herself, absolutely giddy with the thought. _Three_ months, basically. A trifling amount of time, really.

"I hope my daughter isn't as impatient as you, though." She crooned to the comatose metamorphmagus, taking care to speak exceedingly softly.

Peacefully oblivious to the agonies he had caused his parents by arriving a full month early, Teddy gurgled innocently and burrowed further into the yellow blankets swaddling him. Frowning as he nearly disappeared into the cotton folds, Severus shifted carefully and quickly freed his face from the buttery-soft folds.

"You're too tiny." She fussed, holding him nearer to keep him warm.

Not yet six full pounds, the young Lupin looked almost like a miniature doll, his fingers and toes impossibly small and just as fragile as the porcelain limbs on said toys. In fact, were it not for the bubble-gum pink hair and silver eyes, Severus might have been inclined to believe that Tonks had brought a training toy home from the Muggle hospital she had delivered in. Almost to reassure herself that it wasn't so, as well as to revel in the feeling of such sweet softness, she ran two of her fingers through the wispy locks, taking great care not to brush them against any soft spots.

"I do hope, for your sake, that your hair doesn't stay that color." Severus remarked, gently smoothing the locks she had just unsettled.

While the boy's hair had been an inoffensive brown when the Lupin's had brought him home from the hospital, the locks had soon turned a garish pink upon his first night home, the color having not once abated since then.

"I believe the pink hair is _far_ better than the green he was delivered with." Remus opined, tiptoeing softly into the living room. "At least way he doesn't look moldy."

Mildly annoyed at having had her crooning observed, Severus scowled and raised a brow at the disheveled werewolf.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" She demanded.

"The children had a half-day today." Lupin explained, collapsing unto the couch.

"Then why do you look such a mess?" Severus pestered, annoyed at the way in which the dusty wolf was dirtying the furniture.

Having _finally_ found employment at a nearby Muggle school, serving as a primary school teacher for six-year-olds, the Marauder had no excuse for being so dirty. _Exhausted_ , yes, but filthy, no.

"One of the kids crawled into the chimney." Lupin sighed, rubbing his sooty temple. "I had to fetch him out."

Feeling little sympathy for the man, as any child in _her_ charge would have never dared to be so defiant, Severus frowned in reply and turned her focus back unto the tiny charge in her arms.

"You'll be glad to know your son displayed _no_ such Gryffindor tendencies today."

In all truth, the child was a little angel to deal with, his temper quite mild save for a few protests at finding his bottle taken away in preparation for burping.

"I don't feel he's displayed any Gryffindor tendencies, _at all_." Lupin shrugged, grinning sapily at his child. "He's all Hufflepuff, that one."

Even had he _not_ been dressed in the black and yellow sleepsuit Severus had sewn from him, any moron with half-a-brain could see the qualities of such a house in the child- be he awake _or_ asleep. Seldom fussy, and often serene, Teddy's character was of the uncorrupted sweetness Helga Hufflepuff had in mind for her house.

"Doesn't that bother you?" She interrogated. "Just a little bit?"

"Not at all." Lupin assured, kicking off his boots. "Would it bother you if _your_ daughter wasn't in your house?"

While Severus could associate her beloved Lily with Gryffindor House, she could not help but long for the day when her child would follow in her footsteps and be sorted into Slytherin. A future without war was coming, after all, and she wanted _her_ child to be the new face of Slytherin- a rebranded house _without_ any unfair stigma and hatred.

"I'll be fine just so long as she's not sorted into Hufflepuff." Severus teased, carefully passing the baby back into his father's arms.

"Hey now," Remus goaded with a smile, "That's your future son-in-law's house that you're disparaging."

Rolling her eyes as she backed away from the shuffling Teddy, Severus shook her head and sank back into her chair.

"I'll thank you _not_ to be arranging my daughter's marriage so early on." She chided.


	37. Chapter 37

As Severus was not a woman to be easily persuaded into attending the 'fussier' functions of womanhood, much less those of Pureblood society, Narcissa Malfoy had none-too-subtly resorted to emotional terrorism in the pursuit of securing Severus's attendance at the baby shower she was throwing on said woman's behalf. And while Sirius had found the tactics his blonde cousin had employed more than just a little tasteless, as she had most shamelessly used her miscarriage for such, he could not help but admit that the affair was relatively successful. Both well-catered and well-attended, Sirius even found himself enjoying the company despite his many reassurances to the doubtful Remus that he would do nothing of the sort.

Having long ago seen his exhausted wife into the most comfortable chair in the formal parlor, one nearest to the fireplace and heavily padded, Sirius had inexplicably found himself immersed in a riveting conversation with Lucius Malfoy on the merits of having Azkaban shut down for its gross violations of human rights. So surprised to find himself in such staunch agreement with the blonde man, someone he knew he should despite entirely, Sirius barely took any notice of Alecto Carrow strolling into the room more than an hour late.

Seeming nothing inherently harmful about such negligence, aside from the annoyance such rudeness brought him, Sirius was fully prepared to ignore the tactless woman for the remainder of the afternoon. His mind thusly made up, he took a polite sip of his martini and made to finish sharing his thoughts on how best to shut down the prison with his cousin-in-law. But before he could so much as formulate a sentence in his mind, much less utter a syllable, the late arrival cut him off with her mannishly loud voice.

"Merlin, Severus!" The lone twin exclaimed, calling all focus unto herself. "How _big_ you've grown! Why, it's a wonder you can even _fit_ into that chair!"

While Narcissa had evidently taken pity on her child's Godmother and ensured that the majority of the guests were, at the very least, on friendly terms with the honoree, social protocols had unfortunately dictated that a few of the more unpleasant woman in her life needed to be invited as well.

"Alecto!" Squeaked Ambrosia Nott, highly offended on behalf of her peer. "How could you say such a thing!?"

More suited to Hufflepuff and the Slytherin House she had somehow been sorted into, the curly-haired woman had seated herself next to Severus in order to better fulfill her duties as the self-appointed caregiver to the expectant woman for the duration of the event. And while said woman had initially protested quite heavily against such coddling, Severus now seemed glad for it as she watched the petite woman rise to her defense.

"I cannot be the _only_ one to have commented on how much she's ballooned." Alecto scoffed dismissively, clumsily tossing an impossibly small gift bag unto the appropriate table.

Too flustered to even return the barb with one of her more-famous insults, Severus glowered violently at the squat redhead and looked fully prepared to lob her glass of water at the instigator's doughy face.

"Severus is _pregnant_." Lucius reminded with a hiss, looking fully prepared to toss the obnoxious woman out of his manor.

As all eyes turned to both victim and victimizer, Severus squirmed uncomfortably and pulled the emerald blanket pooled atop her legs up over her the large swell of her belly. But while the blanket was quite thick, made more for winter than for fall, the fabric did very little to conceal it's wearers shape. Almost triumphant at the realization of such, Alecto smirked and looked expectantly about the room, all but daring anyone to argue against her earlier claims.

"I will remind you that _I_ carried that large with my Theodore." Ambrosia defended, rising to the bait as tactfully as she could.

Irredeemably mortified at having a matter so private as her weight publicly discussed, Severus cast desperate eyes at Sirius in the hopes that we would find a way to spare her any further embarrassment. But before he could so much as think of a way in which he might do so, without offending anyone, yet another woman rose to his wife's defense.

"And she has _such_ a tiny frame." Remarked Lanora Greengrass. " _Of course_ the baby is making her look large."

While the comment was well-intended, Severus still frowned at the further insinuations that she had grown big.

"Good Merlin!" Sirius exclaimed, wishing to mitigate the damage already done. "Can we _stop_ discussing my wife's weight?!"

Sirius could not help but relax as he noticed the relieved way in everyone nodded their heads in agreement, for he felt it more than just a little crucial for the subject of weight to be discontinued as he had long since begun to suspect that pregnancy was the only reason Severus had even allowed herself to get back to a proper weight for someone her size- as the condition had given her the 'excuse' for growing 'fat.' And while his wife had certainly taken some liberties with her size during the last two months, resulting in some extra padding, Sirius could not help but think such a necessary and relatively harmless.

"Oh, yes!" Lanora agreed heartily. "Shall we play another game?"

"I do believe we've run out of games to play." Ambrosia provided, upon hearing the majority of the men in the room groan at her friends suggestion.

Looking relieved to have gotten out of playing yet another awkward game, Severus sighed softly and leaned back heavily in her chair.

"We might as well have Severus open her gifts." Narcissa decided, effectively ruining whatever relief her honoree might have gleaned from learning there were no more games to play.

"You should not have gotten me anything at all." Severus fussed, looking highly uncomfortable at being so pampered.

"But this is your baby shower." Lanora reminded her. " _Of course_ we did!"


	38. Chapter 38

Despite her many assurances to Sirius that she would be both polite and friendly, Severus was finding it quite difficult to fulfil the latter after an entire week had elapsed with Grimmauld Place being overrun by both Weasley's and Lupin's. For when the newest Lupin was not yowling loudly his protests at having suddenly developed colic, the school-aged children were creating their own noises by means of whatever mischief they were currently engrossed in whenever their mothers back was turned. And while the festive season of Christmas dictated that she must be more tolerating and obliging of nonsense than she was normally accustomed to, Severus found she could not help but hide herself in the master bedroom to avoid the chaos.

"Master should not be allowing so many people in his home!" Kreacher growled, carefully working to brush out her wet hair. "Not when Mistress is being so close to her due date."

Groaning softly at the reminder of her approaching labor, Severus gingerly ran her fingers across her belly and silently cursed Black for having ever put so large a baby inside her. For while she had been a more-than-willing participant in the conception of such, the facts still remained that the babies on _her_ side were never any larger than seven pounds.

"Sirius ought to do as he will in his own home." Severus rebuked mildly, wishing not to disparage the man whose child she was about to bear.

"But it is being _most_ unkind to keep a house so full when you is needing rest!"

"You'll find that I am far too fat to sleep comfortably anyways." Severus assured, yawning loudly as a testament to her remark.

Her exhaustion was, by no means, feigned. For not even the pregnancy pillow she had received from Lanora at her baby shower was sufficient enough to provide her any real comfort in the last stages of her pregnancy.

"Mistress must be remembering that she will not sleep well _after_ the baby arrives either!" Kreacher cackled good-naturedly. "Especially if the young Mistress is taking after her father!"

"Merlin." Severus sighed, grimacing at the very thought. "Let us pray that she doesn't."

While the inheritance of a few Gryffindor traits would be more than welcomed, Severus could not help but hope for a daughter similar in nature to herself. For the thought of being without an ally in a house so very often filled with Lions troubled her, and she wished for nothing more than to even out the scale with a little more Serpentine persuasion.

"It will not be so." Kreacher assured, sounding more calm than he looked.

Thankfully, she was spared from the necessity of sharing her doubts with the elf by a loud knocking on her bedroom door. Easily recognizing the familiar rhythm of such a sound, Severus carefully maneuvered herself off the stool she had inexplicably managed to climb into and hurried to open the door.

"Draco." She grinned, drawing her godson into an awkward hug.

"Merlin," The blonde boy smirked, "It's a wonder you can even walk."

Unamused with the remark, Severus seized a bit of the flesh on Draco's neck and gave it a twist.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?!" Draco groused, rubbing at the small welt.

"Because I'm too fat to do anything else." Severus quipped, clutching her stomach.


	39. Chapter 39

Sirius threw back his head and laughed loudly as his grandfather clock chimed in the New Year, his amusement at the event only heightened by the liberal amounts of champagne toasts he had shared with the adults currently residing within his home.

"Now, that is that." Molly giggled, freeing herself from Arthur's amorous hug. "Off to bed, children."

"But Mum-" Fred or George began.

"You said we could stay up." George of Fred finished.

Having already been caught trying pilfer a few sips of firewhiskey, the Twins promptly found themselves the recipient of a sharp glare from their mother.

"I said you could stay up until midnight." Molly corrected, waggling one fat finger in their direction.

"But Mum-" Ginny began.

"But _nothing_." Arthur interrupted, leaning heavily upon his wife to remain upright. "Listen to your mother."

Seeing that they couldn't possibly hope to win the argument without Arthur on their side, the Weasley children shuffled off to bed with Hermione and Harry in tow, they all of them grumbling about the vast unfairness of being made to go bed so early on a holiday.

"Leave the cleaning to me, Molly." Severus insisted, wanting to allow the lovebirds to escape to their rooms so that they might work on creating an eighth Weasley.

"Are you sure?" Molly fussed, barely steady on her own feet.

" _Quite_ sure." Severus assured, rubbing her belly. "I'm too tired for sleep at the moment."

Knowing that it was futile to argue with the stubborn woman on anything, and desirous to have their own needs met, the Weasley's crept from the room as fast as their unsteady feet would move them. Seeming to be inspired by their retreat, as well as emboldened by the way Teddy had not made a peep for hours, Remus quickly seized Tonks by the hand and tugged her away from the living room as well.

"I believe I'll have another kiss." Sirius grinned, knowing full-well that _that_ was all he could hope for.

"Make it a quick one." Severus demanded, setting down the dirty glasses she had begun to collect.

Obeying the wishes of his wife, Sirius sauntered forward and cupped her swollen face in his hands before leaning into kiss her on the lips. But instead of leaning into the embrace, and licking the champagne from his lips as she had done only moments ago, Severus stood stiffly and barely returned the pressure with her own lips. Concerned, Sirius cut the peck short and pulled back to make his inquiries.

"My back is hurting." Severus explained, catching his wounded expression.

"Would you like another backrub?" Sirius fussed, already planting his hands on her shoulders.

Fidgeting away from the innocent hands, Severus shook her head and groaned as she planted her palms on both sides of her lower back.

"It's not _that_ part of my back that hurts." His wife corrected, shuffling her feet to keep the weight off her ankles.

"Maybe you should sit down." Sirius worried, already placing a pillow in her favorite recliner.

"I can't leave the dishes to sit out all night." Severus huffed, looking highly scandalized at the very thought.

"Forget the dishes." Sirius insisted, all but pulling her to the chair. "Kreacher can take care of them."

Sensing that the Slytherin was about to argue against waking the House Elf for such a task, Sirius sighed and held up a hand to stop her protests.

" _I'll_ take care of them. I promise."

As satisfied as she could be in leaving a chore to be finished by somebody else, Severus plopped down into the recliner and squirmed around a bit until, at last, she found a position comfortable enough for her girth. Relieved to have found the fight so easily won, as well as knowing that his wife couldn't _possibly_ get out of the chair on her own, Sirius gently tossed a blanket over her lap before hurrying out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Severus called after him. "The kitchen is _not_ that way."

"I'll be back in a moment." He called evasively.

Even though he knew he'd have a thorough tongue-lashing awaiting him upon his return home, Sirius rushed through the corridors of Grimmauld Place and up the stairs to Molly's bedroom. Knocking loudly on the closed door, despite feeling quite guilty to interrupt the drunken lovers, he called out their names until at last a peeved-looking Molly cracked open the bedroom door.

"For Merlin's sake." She hissed, clutching her nightgown closed with one hand. "What could you _possibly_ need from me at this hour?"

"Severus's back is hurting." He informed the redhead.

"So, give her a backrub." Molly suggested, clearly annoyed at such a needless interruption.

"Her _lower_ back." He elaborated, hoping his fears weren't as silly and unfounded as he feared them to be.

Sirius couldn't help but blink in surprise as Molly grinned up at him, having fulling expected to have been scolded for his interruption.

"She'll be going into labor soon." The veteran mother advised. "Call the Midwife."

"What?" Sirius questioned. " _Now?!"_

"Yes, _now_!" Molly repeated, more firmly.

Running off the do as bid, Sirius almost didn't hear Arthur grumbling about 'yet another kid,' interrupting him in bed.

Not wanting to alarm Severus, who seemed utterly oblivious to her impending labor, Sirius all but crept into the small study on the lower floor and quickly pulled out a stack of note paper from the desk drawer. Taking no time to fetch a sharpened quill, he made due with a blunt one and quickly scrawled several sloppy notes that forewarned of his approaching fatherhood. Sending off the first few to his Midwife, as well as her assistance, he then quickly sent off another to Narcissa and prayed the wards around Malfoy Manor wouldn't keep his owl from delivering it.

"Good, Merlin." Severus scowled, when at last he returned to her with a glass of cold water. "What on earth took you so long?"

"I had to send out a few notes." Sirius confessed, pressing the glass into her hand.

"To whom?" She demanded, highly suspicious as she took a sip.

"The Midwives."

"Whatever for?" Severus scoffed, raising a dark brow. "I"m not due for _days_ , yet."

"Well," Sirius shrugged, more calmly than he felt, "Molly seems to think you'll go into labor soon."


	40. Chapter 40

"Can I bring you ladies anymore tea?" Sirius fussed, once more flitting about the kitchen table in his attempts to stave off the nervous energy plaguing him. "Perhaps some more refreshments?"

"We have yet to exhaust the stores you brought to us five minutes ago." Severus drawled, absurdly calm about her impending labor.

Having been unbearably flustered since the moment Molly ordered him to contact the Midwives, Sirius had failed to take notice of the piles of food and beverages covering the table the ladies had seated themselves at.

"Why don't you take yourself a little rest?" Molly advised. "You're in for a long night."

Frowning, Sirius shook his head in refusal and sank down into an empty chair beside his wife, entirely unwilling to leave her alone on the merits of having already abandoned her several times since midnight in order to undertake a myriad of fool's errands upon request of both Molly and the three Midwives. And while he suspected such tasks had been assigned to keep him calm and collected, Sirius resented the way in which the women (save Severus) seemed to want him to have no part in the events slowly transpiring.

"I won't be sleeping while my wife is in labor." Sirius proclaimed, looking firmly at all three Midwives.

"I'd hardly define what I'm experiencing as labor." Severus dismissed, her expression passive but her face notably pale and sweaty.

Notorious for failing to inform others of her ailments and pains, Sirius doubted the sincerity of her nonchalance but opted not to call her out on it in so public a manner. Instead, he chose to give her what comfort he could, which was sadly only that of his company. But if his wife found the care inadequate, she did not show it. Rather she smiled at him wearily, her black eyes alert but her smile strained.

"How do you feel?" He questioned, grabbing up her sweaty hand.

Giving his much dryer hand a small squeeze, Severus threw a Royal Flush down unto the table and turned to meet his eye as her fellow companions groaned at their loss and tossed their galleons at her.

"Labor is far less worse than a cruciatus." She assured, grinning feebly as she drew the shining coins nearer to her. "I can endure this."

"You won't be saying that when you go into active labor." Narcissa warned, collecting the playing cards so that she might reshuffle them.

Severus might have made a noise of derision at the warning as she sipped at her Sprite, but her eyes betrayed her nervousness and Sirius felt his gut clench at the thought of what was to come. For Remus, having wished to forewarn his mate on what was to come, had spent all of the evening after Tonks's birth telling him of just how brutal labor could be.

"I am certain it is nothing that I cannot handle." Severus dismissed. "In fact, I wish I were _already_ at that stage. All this waiting is making my back sore."

Both Molly and Narcissa chuckled at her proclamations, causing both Sirius and Severus to frown at the culprits. But if they were ever aware of the dual reproaches, they did not show it, rather they turned to the Midwives with inquiries as to how soon they next stage of labor might ensue as well as with suggestions that Severus might enjoy a warm bath beforehand.

To the former question, the Midwives assured all gathered that active labor ought to be starting soon, as the contractions of their patient were gaining in frequency and intensity. As to the latter suggestion, Severus answered for them, her mouth an angry grimace as she asserted to anyone that would listen that she was most certainly _not_ going to be lowering herself into a tub she could barely climb out of anymore.

"Very well," The Head Midwife shrugged, "Let us play another round. I am certain we'll have time."


	41. Chapter 41

As Severus found out, to her great dismay and consternation, they did _not_ have time to finish another round of poker. For as soon as the cards had been dealt, and accusations of cheating discussed and summarily dismissed, the little imp residing within her had given her a mighty kick that seemed to trigger a mighty contraction she had not been at all prepared to deal with. But while Sirius was alarmed at the reedy screech she had given out in surprise at the assault on her body, the other women seemed calm and even suggested they might finish their game if she were up to it. Having quickly dismissed their suggestion with more aggression than was strictly necessary, as she incorrectly deduced their motives to be selfish, Severus had promptly demanded they head upstairs into the Birthing Bedroom of Grimmauld Place.

Currently laying atop the thick quilts nestled atop the large bed settled in the cozy room, she panted ungracefully from the heat of the stuff room and once more begged for a sip of chilled water. Quick to obey, but clumsy, Sirius sloshed a generous portion of the liquid unto her heaving breasts before he managed to steady his arms and bring the straw to her lips. Sucking greedily, and squeezing closed tightly her eyes, she concentrated on the texture and taste of the beverage so that she might not cry as yet another contraction ripped through her body.

"Another." Severus panted, collapsing back unto the pillows. "That was another contraction."

Having refused to allow herself to cry out in agony as so many other woman did, the Midwives had soon found themselves resorting to Severus's confessions in order to know when a contraction had hit.

"Good, good." The youngest Midwife encouraged. "We're getting closer."

" _We?!_ " Severus hissed, too exhausted to sit up and glower.

Rather than give her an answer, the Midwives set to discussing as to whether or not they thought it prudent to have her stand and walk about for awhile. Not even deigning to entertain such a ridiculous notion with her back aching so badly, Severus shook her head and informed them, in no uncertain terms, that Merlin himself could not make her rise from the bed and walk.

"Walking might help you relax." The third Midwife suggested, dabbing at her sweaty brow with a flannel.

" _Delivery_ would help me relax." Severus argued. "How much longer until I can push?"

Too tired for any mortification to settle in, Severus barely batted a lash as the Midwife pulled up her nightgown and peeked at the area betwixt her legs.

"You're about 8cm." She advised, leaning closer for a better look. "We'll need you closer to ten before you can start pushing."

Sighing her frustrations to the ceiling, Severus closed her eyes and braced herself for yet another contraction. But, alas, it was too no avail, as no matter how ardently she tried to steal herself against the sudden onslaughts of pain the pressure and agonies did not decrease.

"You can scream." Sirius breathed, kneeling at the bedside and clutching her hand.

"I have no need to scream." Severus assured, pulling damp strands of hair from her face.

"But you _do_ have a desire to." Her husband returned, squeezing her fingers.

Shaking her head in denial, Severus grasped his fingers tightly as another contraction violated her body, causing him to wince as her ring cut into his flesh. _Merlin help me,_ she thought, _I cannot possibly get through another five hours of this._

"I need to go to a Muggle Hospital." She decided. "I _need_ an epidural."

Pushing her firmly back down into the pillows as she tried to rise, the oldest of the Midwives shook her head and tutted softly.

"You need no such Muggle nonsense." She lectured. "It's _unnatural_."

"And you're too far dilated to be apparting." The kindest of the Midwives advised.

Groaning loudly her displeasure, Severus yanked her hand free from Sirius's and pulled a pillow up to cover her face and she squirmed in agony at yet another contraction assaulted her body.

"How the hell did you do this _seven_ times?!" Severus groaned, nearly breathless from her last contraction.

"You forget the pain after delivery." Molly promised, patting her knee.

"For Sirius's sake, he had better hope so." She muttered darkly, turning unto her side.

Unable to do anything but stare at the emerald walls as she waited for it to be time for pushing, Severus blinked warily and tried to concentrate on anything other than the pain and discomfort. Surely if such methods had proved themselves useful for the Cruciatus, they would work for this as well. She began, first, with counting, trying to picture the numbers in her head as she willed away the time. And while the method seemed, initially, to be working, another contraction rippled through her at 389 and she soon found herself losing track of her placement and wits. Slightly disheartened by the way events were rapidly transpiring, she then tried to name all the potions ingredients she could think of in alphabetical order. But that, too, proved for naught as she only made it to Devil's Snare before yet another contraction hit.

"Is it really too late for an epidural?" She wheezed, clawing at the quilts.

"Far too late." The eldest Midwife assured.

Silently cursing her fate, Severus moved to lie on her back in the hopes that some of the pressure would be relieved. But she found, to her great chagrin, that such a position only made matters worse and she was promptly incentivized to turn back unto her side again. Sirius, sensing her discomfort, moved quickly to rub at her shoulders, utterly oblivious to the fact that she did not wish to be touched at the moment. But rather than hiss at him to return to his seat, she allowed the contact, wishing to give whatever comfort she could at the moment.


	42. Chapter 42

Ursula Lyra Black, as it turned out, would not be born until the sun had very nearly set upon another January evening. But came she did, her strenuous arrival heralded by a horrific screech shared by both mother and daughter as the supper hour came to a close and the sun sank rapidly toward the horizon. Voicing her grievances loudly for all inhabitants of Grimmauld Place to hear, the screeching bundle had squirmed about so wildly upon delivery that Sirius had almost feared the Midwife would drop her unto the floor. But, as it turned out to the relief of all, the aged woman's hands had proved steady and strong and the naked babe had been promptly delivered unto her mother's chest without incidence.

"Merlin," Narcissa breathed, leaning close to the squalling infant, "That girl is _enormous_."

Now crying more profusely than she had during the labor, Severus sniffed and nodded as she worked to quiet the child screeching in her embrace.

"Ten pounds, three ounces." The youngest Midwife agreed, waving her wand at the infant in order to take vitals. "Twenty-one inches."

Looking fondly upon his fussing daughter, Sirius couldn't help but smirk as he realized just how badly his child would dwarf the premature Teddy.

"I'll never forgive you for this." Severus smiled, utterly exhausted but more than willing to tease her husband.

"I shall spend the rest of my days making it up to you." He assured, brushing his fingers against his daughter's pink toes.

Startled into silence at the sudden contact, Ursula stilled for the first time since her delivery and finally opened her eyes to reveal orbs that greatly resembled her mother's. But, alas, Sirius did not have long to reflect upon just how beautiful the eyes were as Severus chose, at that moment, to put the squalling infant to her breast.

"That one is sure to have an appetite." Molly remarked, helping the Midwives to wipe down Severus's legs.

"Clearly." Severus agreed, wincing slightly as her daughter began to suckle.

Leaving only a mass of matted black curls to look at as she fed, Ursula grunted loudly and ate greedily as her Mother held her close, completely oblivious to the agonies and fears she had been causing her parents for the last several hours.

"Shall I share the good news with everyone?" Sirius questioned, running his fingers through the feeding infant's hair.

Severus nodded, her attention utterly fixated unto the naked girl lying in her arms.

"Please do." She encouraged. "But don't send anyone up just yet."

Looking more haggard than he had ever seen her, Sirius easily agreed to the simple request and kissed his wife on the sweaty brow before taking his leave of the room.

"It's a girl!" He announced, shoving his way into living room.

As expected, the tumult that accosted him at the news was nearly of an unbearable volume, with everyone shouting to have their questions heard over the other and the girls and women squealing loudly their congratulations as well as their own inquiries. Even Walburga Black saw fit to impart a few words, though her hollers of disappointment over having not been given a son were far less tolerable than those of his houseguests jubilations.

"Kreacher was knowing it was a girl all along!" His Elf screeched loudly, his face cartoonishly glad.

Before Sirius could even thank the Elf for keeping the children fed while his wife labored, much less stop him from barging in on his wife, Kreacher had apparated up the steps and ran down the corridor without restraint, so excited was he to welcome the new Young Mistress.

"I want to see the baby!" Harry insisted.

"Oh, me too!" Draco agreed, nearly bouncing with anticipation.

Holding both his hands above his head to get the attention of the room, Sirius shook his head and slowly and pressed a finger to his lips.

"Severus and the baby are not quite ready to welcome visitors." He explained. "But as soon as they are, I'll send for you."

"But she promised Draco and I could be the first in the room." Harry protested.

"And you will be," Sirius promised, "Just as soon as they're ready."

Pacified, at least for the moment, those assembled in the living room allowed him to return to his wife with only the mildest of grumbles at being disallowed from swarming the newly-made mother and child.

"Well," Severus drawled, "What is the verdict?"

Seating himself beside her on the bed, Sirius wrapped one arm about her slender shoulders and kissed her on the nose.

"Unanimous excitement." He informed her, grinning down at the freshly swaddled child.

No longer feeding, Ursula had been wrapped in the purple swaddling blanket Severus herself had knitted, her pink face now cleared of birthing goo and her hair now clean and erratic as it stuck out at random from her head.

"You may take her." Severus encouraged, carefully passing the snoozing bundle into his arms.

Utterly terrified that he might drop her, Sirius held perfectly still as the child was passed into his arms, not wanting any harm to befall his daughter.

"She's perfect." He breathed, looking down at her face and seeing his nose and chin on the scrunched up features.

"Master and Mistress is making a beautiful baby." Kreacher agreed, his eyes full of reverent tears as he took in his newest charge. "Kreacher is never before seeing such a perfect baby!"

"Excuse me?" Sirius teased, still unable to tear his gaze away from his daughter.

Unphased, Kreacher grinned and stuck his chin up. "Kreacher is knowing what he said."


End file.
